


Dear Whoever I Love Today

by BewareTheIdesOfMarchYall



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of firsts here folks, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Good luck to them, I don't normally write romance but I'm trying this out!, Inspired by To All The Boys I've Loved Before, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, My First AO3 Post, Roman is a dumbass if we're being honest, Then again I don't normally post my fan fictions, Who will find love? Who will be unconscious in a ditch? What is Logan doing? Come find out, they're all dumbasses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdesOfMarchYall/pseuds/BewareTheIdesOfMarchYall
Summary: Roman falls in love a lot.Whenever Roman falls in love, he writes a letter to the guy he likes.So far, he's written five secret letters.But what happens when the letters are released? Will any of the guys he liked feel the same? Does he still feel the same about them?Will this story end in happily ever after?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 194
Kudos: 174





	1. Love, Roman

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first published fanfic, and part of a challenge I set for myself to complete a list of prompts. The first? A To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU. And who better for that than the multi-shipped, romantic fool, Roman Sanders! Thank you for reading, and remember:  
> Geese are going to be predators someday.

Roman was in love.  
This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence by any means. Roman fell in love all the time, and with any guy who so much as looked in his direction.  
But this time was different from the rest (or, at least, most of the rest) because Roman was going to write a love letter.

Whenever Roman fell in love, truly fell in love beyond the average crush, he’d write a letter spilling all his feelings to them. How he’d fallen for them, why he’d fallen for them, what he wishes would happen between them, the works. He’d then seal the envelope, write their address on the front, press on a stamp...and hide the letter in his closet behind the ren fair swords to never see the light of day again.  
As long as the letters stayed packed away, Roman felt like a cloistered princess writing messages to her forbidden love, if the forbidden love was a slightly anarchist kid from drama club who’s probably going to burn down the school one day, but holy hera he’s so hot-Alright, so maybe the metaphor had gotten away from him. But the point stood. In the letters, he was swept-off-your-feet-west-side-story-just-met-a-girl-named-maria romantic instead of a 17-year-old boy with an overdeveloped sense of drama and underdeveloped common sense.

He’d only written a letter five times in his entire life:

1\. 5th grade. Valentine’s day. Zoom in on a young Roman realizing, to the surprise of absolutely no one, that he liked boys. A lot.  
Valentine’s was already his favorite holiday because of the excuse to eat candy and put glitter on everything, but this one was even more special because today he was going to give his crush a card! Sure, maybe his room was a mess of glue and red construction paper by the time he was done. Maybe the valentine had stuck to his backpack and a corner had to be cut off. Maybe it was slightly chewed on (But that wasn’t his fault! Remus sometimes chewed on construction paper!). Despite all this, it was stealthily delivered to his crush’s desk.  
Roman could barely wait for recess, where he was sure his valentine would run to him and confess he always felt the same way. Or, you know, do whatever Wesley from the Princess Bride would.

Nothing happened at recess.  
Except for Remus and his gloomy little friend, Virgil, throwing wood chips at him. And he threw more wood chips back and it turned into a massive woodchip fight.  
But that didn’t distract from the fact that he was alone and would always be alone forever, and he might as well just go live behind the shed now. And so, he ran over to the dusty, spider web-covered building, lip trembling and nose dripping, only to be stopped by a boy in cat mittens.

“Are you okay? ‘Cause you look like you’re crying.”. Roman sniffled.

“I’m fine. I just live behind the shed now because I’m a failure.”. Catboy’s eyes widened in fear.

“You can’t do that! The back of the shed is a dangerous place!”

“Why?”

“It’s covered in cobwebs. And when there are cobwebs, there are creepy crawly death creatures lying in wait to suck your blood!”

“You mean spiders?”

“Creepy crawly death creatures…”. A lightbulb went off in Roman’s head.

“If I slew these creatures, would you be able to return to your kingdom?”

“I mean, I don’t own the shed, but yeah!”. Roman pulled a glue stick out of his backpack and pulled off the cap like he was unsheathing a sword.

“You will be saved soon, Lord-what was your name again?”. Roman wasn’t crying anymore, and the boy with the cat mittens was grinning an enormous, dimpled smile.

“Patton!”

“Patton. I’m going to kill some creepy crawly death creatures.”

That night, after he’d served his after school detention for covering the school shed in glue, he got started on a new valentine (there wasn’t any glue left, as Roman had used all but one stick, and Remus had proceeded to steal that stick to do who knows what) for the kind, funny Patton. On instinct, he decided not to mail it, instead hiding the card under his action figures. He might not mail the valentine, but he was going to talk to this kid again tomorrow.

Roman did, in fact, talk to Patton the next day and the day after that. He realized after a few conversations that he wasn’t actually in love with him, just grateful. They became friends, and that stuck.

2\. The summer between 7th and 8th grade. It seems like everyone in town attended the same summer camp, so after some coordinated pleading by him and Remus, they got to go too! It was...underwhelming to be honest. It was the same kids from school in relatively the same social circles, only minus the math (which was fantastic). He couldn’t even escape Virgil there, for Zeus’s sake. But there was one boy he’d never met before who didn’t pretend to be too cool for cartoons and had the cutest glasses and oh no there Roman goes again. His name was Emile and Roman spent the entire summer trying to flirt with him through grand gestures. Grand gestures in question got him sent home early with a broken wrist (surprisingly, Remus outlasted him for exactly one day. And then he lit the canoes on fire. Their family hasn’t really done the summer camp thing since then). With the non-broken hand, Roman wrote down everything he wished he could have said to Emile if he had the time. And hadn’t fallen out of that tree.

3\. Freshman year! New school, new opportunity to fall head over heels for the first stylish person who talks to you! Even if they’re way out of your league. And that first conversation was more along the lines of,  
“You dropped your-is this a sword?”

“Thank you!”

“...you’re welcome???” An awkward silence followed. In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation:

“Nice sunglasses!”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“They’re very shiny!”

“Got em’ to hide my eyes from the world.”

“Well, they certainly do that…” The awkward silence returned. The stylish guy uneasily clicked finger guns and retreated away from Roman.

Roman would have chalked it up to a time he scared away a possible romance and moved on. However, he had a second encounter with that crush soon after. He’d been invited to a party (technically, Patton had been invited to a party), and a game of truth or dare started.  
Roman has never passed up truth or dare in his life, and wasn’t about to start now. The game was pretty basic until someone called out that it was Remy’s turn. Sunglasses (Remy?) raised his head And his dare (there is a god) was to kiss the person across the circle from him. Which was, of course, Roman, who very much wanted to follow through with this, but had to deal with the slight problem that all of his organs had been magically transformed into boulders. Remy stared at him in impatience (one would assume. He was still wearing the reflective sunglasses) before walking over to the other side of the circle.

“You’re the guy with the sword, right?” At least he doesn’t remember me for “thanks”, Roman thought, nodding furiously. They stood there for a solid five seconds, slowly shuffling nearer.

“Are you going to take off the sunglasses?”, Roman asked. Remy shook his head.

“I never take these things off. I’ll get kicked out of the bounty hunting business if I do.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s a-”

“Oh! Right, Star Wars reference. Nice! That’s a good one.”

“Sweetie, if you tell someone their joke was a “good one”, chances are they’ll know it wasn’t.”

“Okay, sorry? Um, so, this. I’ve never really-nevermind. Do we just-”

“Jesus. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Will do.”. Roman swooped in. Remy also swooped in. Foreheads collided, but lips eventually found each other. Roman’s eyes were open the whole time, taking in everything. First kisses aren’t an everyday thing. Remy’s sunglasses slipped down an inch, and Roman could just barely catch a glimpse of his eyes (light brown, with gray specks). What happened after that was irrelevant. At the time, it felt like everything that happened before that was also irrelevant. Roman floated home on his bike, crisscrossing the dirt trails that led back to his house, wanting to call out the pine trees Guess what?? A boy kissed me!

Remy never really talked to him again after that, but that’s also irrelevant.

4\. 10th grade. Math was never Roman’s strong suit, and once the unholy system known as algebra was introduced, it was all over for him. No matter how much he studied the material, it was all just letters and numbers and why the fuck does Sarah have 68 watermelons and why was that expressed in a trinomial. He was failing the class, which meant that his grade point average would go down, which meant that he wouldn’t get into college, which meant that he wouldn’t have a job and would end up homeless or in a traveling circus best-case scenario-  
Calm down. You’re starting to sound like Virgil.  
But failing math wasn’t good.  
You know who wasn’t failing math? Mr. Prodigy, who sat in front of him. Roman was pretty sure he had a calculator in his brain. This guy (his name was Leon or something) was exemplary in every class, committing the material to memory like it was his superpower. A pretty lame superpower if crime-fighting was involved, but when it came to passing high school he was king.  
However, Leon (no, no, Logan) had one Achilles heel: Spanish.  
He wasn’t failing or anything, but his average was a B+ and this seemed to be upsetting for him. Roman was excellent in Spanish, and so he pulled together a plan. After one Spanish class, he ran up to Logan and proposed a quid pro quo.  
Logan would help him with math, and in return, he’d help Logan get the hang of Spanish.  
Roman couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he went from wanting to ace his math homework to wanting to write the fourth letter. Was it when he found out Logan knew all the words to In The Heights too? When they took a study break to eat toast with Crofter's jelly and a blob of it got on his nose? The way that the sunlight reflected off of his glasses? Anyway, Roman wrote out his letter to Logan and hid it among the others. He wasn’t someone with a lot of secrets, but he had to admit that he seemed to be collecting bushels of them lately.

He hadn’t spoken to Logan in a while. There wasn’t any falling out or anything like that, they just fell out of touch.

5\. And now, secret number five had arrived. Roman was in love again, this time with his brother’s best friend (for once, Remus had good taste in companions). He sat down, picked up a red glitter pen, plugged in his headphones, put on Adelaide’s Lament from Guys and Dolls, and began to write.

Dear, Janus  
I know I haven’t asked you out or told you this before, but I like you very much. Why then, you may wonder, have I not asked you out? Good question. I guess I don’t know what I’d do if my wish came true (shit, didn’t mean to make that sound profound or whatever, back to our regularly scheduled pining). 

You’ve been in my life since middle school, so I’m surprised it took me so long to fall for you. I guess you were just one of Remus’s friends to me until now, another MCR-obsessed fool like Virgil. But when the fall production of Chicago rolled around I realized you were a heck of a lot more. You’re suave, and funny, and made a perfect Billy Flynn (slight tangent: I would have been a better Roxie than Valerie any day. But at least I killed Cellophane, though invisible isn’t really my thing). I’d say the moment I fell was when I had to go back to the auditorium for my script after rehearsal. You’d stuck around to help clean up, and thought that no one was around, so you started playing the piano. I didn’t know you knew how to do that. That was the moment I knew I was going to write this letter.

The play’s over now. My crush on you isn’t. If I knew that you felt the same way, if I knew that it would work out, I’d find you in English class and tell you all of this. Then we could go get bagels or something (do you like bagels? What am I saying, everyone likes bagels) and listen to show tunes in the car (I don’t own a car. I am the worst driver. If you don’t own a car, we can just listen to show tunes in general). As it is, I’m just going to see you when you pick up Remus for assorted chaos and wish I was someone luckier.  
Janus, I think you’re the guy for me  
Love,  
Roman

As he finished the signature, there was a raspy voice behind him.  
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  
Shit. It was Remus.


	2. A Brief Confrontation And The Hiding Of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Title

“NOTHING! There’s nothing to see!”, Roman yelped. Remus raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

“See, I was just saying “well, well, well, what do we have here” because I felt like it. But now I’m curious! What DO we have here?”. Roman grabbed the letter off of the desk and held it behind his back. There was no way Remus was going to know about any of this. His twin was as unpredictable as a feral cat on crack cocaine. There was no telling if he’d help you out or burn your house to the ground, but it was a poor idea to risk it. All Roman needed to have was a smart excuse…

“I wasn’t writing anything!” Goddammit. Remus’s eyes lit up with the thrill of discovering something he shouldn’t have, as well as the normal “I’m going to make my brother stick his head in a bush and scream in horror” grin. 

“Ooh, is that a secret letter?”

“No!”

“But whatever do people put in secret letters?”

“I wouldn’t know, because this isn’t a secret letter!”

“I don’t think you’re a spy for the Bulgarian government…”

“Just get out of my room!”

“You’d have more of a boring moral dilemma if you’d killed someone…”

“GO AWAY YOU GREMLIN!”

“Is it a looooove letter?”

“NOOOO!”

“It IS! It’s a love letter!” Roman grabbed a pillow and began forcing Remus out of his room. Remus clung to the doorframe like a drowning rat on the last plank of wood as Roman tried to pry his fingers off. He tried to elbow his brother off of the frame, but in the process, he dropped his letter. Remus caught the letter in the air. Before he could read it, Roman shoved the pillow in front of his face and yanked the love letter out of his grasp. He then elbowed his brother away from the door, slammed it, and turned the lock. He slid down to the floor and breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. 

Later, he held the letter in his hand. He’d written on an address, put on a stamp, and wondered what to do now. What would happen if he stuck this one in the mailbox?   
If Janus saw this, would he like him too? Could they be together?

HA, no. Anyway, time to hide it away and never have to face rejection. Roman pushed aside his ren faire swords and feelings and peeled back the loose strip of wallpaper to reveal the hole in the wall where he kept the others. He placed his letter under the pile of previous confessions, five pages deep. One last goodbye glance, then he sealed it up again. 

And now, he had to do the homework that he’d procrastinated on for all of winter break. Someday, he’d learn to do that on time…

Roman had failed to notice two things. Number one, the fact that a small corner had been torn off of his letter that read “Dear, Janus”. And number two, a green eye at the keyhole, weighing his options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter was on the shorter side. I think the next chapter will be slightly longer again!


	3. Ways To Start A New School Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman heads back to school after winter break. Will things go well? Of course not.

There are a lot of good ways to start a new school year after winter break.  
This, Roman reflected while sprawled out in a pool of mashed potatoes, was not one of them.

Explanation time: The day had started on a good-ish note! At least he’d made the bus (Remus hadn’t been so lucky. He’d probably be able to get to school via bike or something). Ah, the bus. That small yellow vehicle built as though it were a traveling monkey house. A monkey house on wheels, filled with screeching primates. Perhaps travelers will toss a coin to us monkeys. Don’t you love the smell of claustrophobia in the morning? Roman walked down the aisle, scanning the seats. Patton, who had somehow collected yet another sweater over winter break, waved him over, and Roman quickly sat next to him. The rattling bus weakly coughed and started slowly scraping forward. One of Patton’s hands was over his smiling mouth, and he looked like he was about to burst from excitement. Before Roman could ask why, Patton burst out, “I got the blueprints!”.

A quick explanation on “the blueprints”. Patton was an altogether lovely kid, but he was lowkey planning a heist. Not of money, or gold, or anything like that, but a heist of dogs. The local animal shelter contained many dogs without a good home, too many, for Patton to legitimately adopt. So, he was going to resort to less legitimate means, namely a heist. He’d been planning this for about five years.

“You got the blueprints of the shelter? Nice!”

“Right? Soon, I’ll have thirty dogs…”

“And I get the cats. Hey, how was winter break?”

“Family was family. I got to go ice skating! It was more ice falling, but it was fun! Speaking of family-”

“Remus was Remus. He’s not dead yet, so...there’s something. Honestly, I’m just glad to be back at school.”. Surprisingly, that was true. Roman could bet that not many people had missed him, but he had missed people. He couldn’t help it! They were interesting! The friendships, the rivalries, the romances, the petty drama he was never included in, a constant buzz of productions playing out.  
His own friendships and rivalries were few and far between, and his romances were worse. At school, Roman was Terms And Conditions: Always half-heartedly accepted, but ignored. Still, he had Patton for a friend, and when it came to rivals…..

The bus stopped again. And rival numero uno boarded. He’d somehow become even more angsty over break, a feat that Roman would have thought would be impossible. As usual, his clothes were completely black, like the room where he put on his eyeshadow must have been for it to be in that state. However, he’d dyed his hair a shocking shade of heliotrope purple. It fell in his eyes a bit, and if Roman could stand the guy, he’d say it suited him.

But he couldn’t stand him, so he labeled the color as garish and stared purposefully in the opposite direction. The nemesis in question stared in the opposite direction of Roman as well, and the two deliberately ignored each other. Patton, oblivious, waved.

“Hi, Virgil!”. Virgil didn’t hear. His headphones were shaking with the volume of his music, probably My Chemical Romance or something else extremely loud as he mouthed the words. Roman continued not looking at him. This was how it started, every time: the ignoring, the trying to make the other’s existence insignificant, eventually followed by one of them striking first and bringing back the rivalry in full force.

Friends, rivals. But where are the romances (besides the chemical one in that emo’s headphones)?  
The glass doors parted with a squeak, and Janus stepped onto the bus. He had a slight smirk on his lips like he was trying and failing not to laugh at his own joke. His eyes looked like sunlight through trees and his smile was gorgeous and-Patton was shaking him.

“Roman? Hello?”

“What?”

“I was just telling you about this weird thing my grandma said, and then you kind of spaced-Roman?”

“Hmm?”. Patton noticed where his eyes had gone to.

“When are you going to finally ask him out?”. Roman spluttered.

“Ask who out? Who would I ask out? There’s no one I want to ask out!”

“Uh-huh. So if there’s no one distracting you, could you please listen to me?”. Patton told his story of odd grandmas as Roman tore his thoughts away from secret smiles and sunny eyes.

The day went normally after that. English was great (They were studying a Midsummer Night's Dream! Roman loved that play, no matter how much of the plot relied on miscommunication), Spanish was fine (The language was amazing, the teacher less so), and Calculus had not stopped being a demonic puzzle.  
Things became relevant to our story again when Roman was about to go to lunch. He’d been late, having to stay after Calculus to try and complete the notes for the class, and was about to hurry into the cafeteria when he noticed two things.

1\. Remy, leaning against the wall, holding a tray full of mashed potatoes. Remy wasn’t exactly a stoic person, but he normally knew exactly what he was doing with his emotions. However, there was the slightest look of panic on his face and a ketchup swear on his forehead.

2\. The screaming. The shrieking coming from the cafeteria, not necessarily shrieks of fear or triumph but a mixture of both. What the hell was happening?  
Remy looked away from the potatoes and at Roman.

“Have you ever really not wanted to face the consequences of your actions?”. Roman tilted his head.

“Sometimes? What’s going on in there?”. Remy didn’t seem to hear him and instead pressed the tray into his arms.

“Good luck!” And, without another word, he sprinted off.

“WAIT, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THESE? WHAT’S HAPPENING? REMY!”. But Remy was gone.  
Tentatively, Roman opened the cafeteria doors and was greeted with utter madness.

Food was splattered everywhere and was still flying across the room. People were running to and fro, either avoiding or joining in the battle. It was a massive food fight, the kind Roman had never seen before at his school. Across the room, he saw Patton tossing pizza pockets (or he would if he could stop eating the pizza pockets). Logan was completely ignoring the hurricane of casserole around him, using a fallen ceiling tile as a shield and calmly eating a sandwich. And a voice behind him-

“Where’s Remus?”. Roman spun around to see Janus looking for the other members of his not-so-secret society. His brain briefly short-circuited, but not for long, as getting what-was-supposed-to-be-casserole dumped into your hair can kill even the most romantic of moments. 

Roman looked behind him to see who had thrown the dish, chicken grease dripping down his face. As expected. That sneaky little panic at his disco was standing there, grinning, but already turning to run. His hair really was garish, wasn’t it! Roman chased after Virgil, determined to get even. Unfortunately, Virgil was fast and careful as to where he escaped to, whereas Roman came close to slipping on every piece of stray food underfoot. He quickly lost sight of him in the crowd of food throwing hooligans. Fine. Revenge would have to wait. He tried to walk back to a less chaotic part of the room, perhaps one that was coincidentally in Janus’s direction, when he slipped on a stray piece of what-was-supposed-to-be-casserole. Time froze as both Roman and the tray of mashed potatoes hovered in the air. Despite the amount of time that had frozen-centuries? Eons? Two very awful seconds?-Roman could only briefly think, “Oh dear” and a few choice words unlike “dear” before he and the starchy food plummeted to the ground. 

And there he was. Lying in a pool of mashed potatoes, shirt soaked in butter. Everything was quiet. For a second, Roman panicked, thinking they were all staring at him. They weren’t. They were staring at the shapes of teachers in the cafeteria doorway. The teachers, however, were indeed staring at him.  
This was just great.


	4. Things Get Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you think things would get better for Roman after the last chapter? Sadly, they get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Cursing

Suspended and grounded. What a wonderful phrase.

The word “suspended” implies that one is off of the ground and in the air, while the word “grounded” implies that one is buried, or at the very least standing on the earth. From a linguistic standpoint, those two things should NOT be allowed to happen at the same time. And yet, here Roman was, exiled from both school and technology for a crime he did not commit! 

Remy had started the food fight, he and that tray of mashed potatoes. The teachers, aware of that, had entered the room, only to find the mashed potatoes in Roman’s hands (and hair, and generally everywhere). They were eager to never have the incident repeat again, so they quickly swept it under the rug by suspending him. Grounding soon followed. Roman made a mental note to not let murder weapons get planted on him again, no matter which guy asked.

He wasn’t usually the one who got suspended. That was Remus’s job. Case in point: Remus was, in fact, imprisoned as well, due to an incident in the dissection lab. But that was normal! That was expected! Everyone knew the kind of person Remus was!

Roman paced the floor of his room. He’d been stuck in his house for six days, and tomorrow he’d be free of his sentence, which was a good thing, because if he was there for another minute he’d lose it. He’d exhausted every way of procrastination under the sun, which was mostly getting lost in the woods. Yes, maybe the woods were practically in his backyard. Yes, maybe he’d been lost for several hours. Everything was fine! Oh GOD, get him out of this house-

When Monday morning rolled around, he restrained himself from kissing the ground in relief, thinking that a tad dramatic, even for him. He opened up his phone while waiting for the bus. A notification popped up. 20 unread messages, all from Patton (who else?).

“Sorry you got suspended. Are you grounded?”

Two days later, “I guess so!”

“Here’s a picture of a cat sneezing for when you get your phone back”

A picture of a calico with rage in its eyes and angelic cuteness in its little sneeze followed.

“His name is Kerfuffle!”

“I mean, idk what his real name is, but he looks like a Kerfuffle”

Two days after that, “Roman? Quick question?”

A picture of Patton followed. He was holding-WAIT, WHAT??

Roman stared at his screen. He went to the home page and back to text, rubbed his eyes, pinched himself to see if he was dreaming.  
Patton was still holding his love letter from 5th grade.

Roman had to see what the rest of the messages were. Ominously, there was only one left.

“Can we talk?”

Fuck.  
Fuck!  
How did this happen? Who would do this? The answer to question two hit him like a casserole to the head: REMUS.   
Roman saw the bus pulling up, but it didn’t register, like reality had become a faint breeze compared to the hurricane of My Life Is Over inside his mind.   
He needed to fix this, he needed to rewrite things, he needed to never have written anything, he needed to get on the bus, he needed to get lost in the woods, he needed to get lost in the woods forever, he’d dropped his phone, the bus was waiting, he needed to apologize to everyone, he needed to breathe and couldn’t…..  
Roman dug his nails into his hands, trying to steady himself. There was one thing that he really, really needed to do.  
Murder his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about suspending him, I just always thought that all of the letters arriving at the exact same time in the original To All The Boys I've Loved Before was a little suspect. Him staying at home means that all six of the letters can arrive right on time!


	5. The Sixth Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sixth letter arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: switched  
> Plot: thickens  
> Virgil: freaking out

Virgil was freaking out.  
This wasn’t uncommon. Hardly a moment went by where Virgil wasn’t freaking out about something or other. He was freaked out before, was freaked out now, and would probably be freaking out about something later.   
The important thing was what he was freaking out about: A 8.5” by 11” sheet of paper, previously folded in half, somewhat smeared with dark ink smudges, and containing many words, none so as important as a select four:

“Dear Virgil”

“Love, Roman”

What.  
The.  
Hell.  
Virgil knew a few facts. High school was purgatory, it was his fault the last school counselor quit (maybe Remus had helped a little), MCR’s return was going to last, his friends all obviously hated him, that was a problem for later, and Roman goddamn Sanders didn’t send him love letters. And he could prove it!  
Why Roman Sanders couldn’t be in love with him: An Essay

First off, it’s not like Roman had ever expressed any fondness for him in the past. In fact, he showed the complete opposite. That weird kid had declared Virgil his nemesis in the 4th grade, and they’d never really gotten any closer since. Virgil wasn’t exactly sure WHY he’d been placed in the role of nemesis, but hey, it’s not like anyone from the Sanders family had ever made a rational choice in their life. It was a great quality in Remus, but in Roman it was just...overkill. He and Roman’s relationship was an ongoing war of petty slights and “eye for eye”s. One guy throws wood chips, the other throws lasagna back, the first guy throws a casserole, and NO ONE was throwing love letters into the mailbox!

Second of all, if anyone was going to have secret feelings for their nemesis, it definitely wouldn’t be Roman. When he had a crush on someone, no matter how subtle he tried to be, it was super obvious. For example, at the moment, Roman’s ACTUAL crush was Virgil’s friend (although that title might have been removed without Virgil even knowing), Janus, and everyone within a three-mile radius (except maybe Janus himself) already knew. How could they not? It was a miracle Janus hadn’t realized, what with the lovelorn looks, and sighing, and adorable smiling without context, and had he mentioned Roman was annoying? Because this had gotten both old and on every single one of Virgil’s frayed nerves.

And finally, even if Roman had a crush on him, even if he’d somehow not noticed until now, it didn’t matter! Virgil didn’t even like the guy! Couldn’t stand him. Roman Sanders was an arrogant, over-dramatic, head-in-the-clouds fool, so he shouldn’t even care if he sent him a love letter……...  
And he didn’t care! Of course he didn’t! Why would he? Why would he care if Roman Sanders had sent him anything? That was his mistake to make, not Virgil’s. There was no reason to devote any more of his thoughts to him, and there was no reason to panic, and there was no reason to care, and there was no reason why he’d STILL be holding the damn thing!

Virgil stared at the smudged signature. He’d never been given a love letter before. Of course not, who even gave people love letters anyway? But still. Maybe it was a joke or a prank? However, it could be real, and he had no idea what to do.

He acted on instinct, shoving the letter underneath his tarantula’s terrarium and deciding that he could work this out later. Much, much later. For now, he had a friend group to save. He tried to put on a calm face, which looked less calm, more slightly muted horror. He was FINE!


	6. Roman is TOTALLY OKAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman isn't okay.

Where were we? Ah, yes. Fratricide.

Remus, for once, had made his way to the bus in time. Roman’s thoughts were briefly torn away from the endless loop of “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” as he marveled at the fact that his brother was wearing lime green crocs in below thirty-degree weather. _Why?_ Why was he determined to face both mockery and frostbite? And for what? _Was there anything this madman wouldn’t do?_

No! He was here to commit a crime, not to have an inner monologue about lime green crocs!

Roman hadn’t exactly murdered anyone before, but he’d never had all of his secrets exposed over the course of one terrible week either. However, he knew that he had several things that counted against him: A lack of experience, a lack of a weapon, and an entire bus full of witnesses. There was a chance they’d all be too distracted by those god-awful crocs as well, but it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. For once in his life, Roman was going to be strategic.

So, when Remus walked up to him, shoes squeaking like a dying whale, Roman restrained himself and pretended that there was absolutely no one next to him. He had a good bit of practice at pretending he wasn’t related to his twin, so it wasn’t hard. _Act like an only child. Smile. Confidence and all that. Just get on the bus._

He kept his head down and slipped into the closest open seat, not wanting to actually find out if everyone was really staring at him or it was just paranoia. He didn’t have enough courage to try and sit next to his best friend Patton. His _best friend_ -oh god, he definitely screwed up things with his best friend. He probably didn’t even like Roman anymore! Or what if he did like him, but in a way that Roman hadn’t felt for seven years? He wasn’t sure what would be worse, Patton hating him or Patton loving him. Either way, his closest friendship could be gone.

Roman numbly stared out the window as the bus started to move, focusing on each individual tree, his thoughts detached. He didn’t notice when Virgil got on the bus, or how he looked towards Roman’s usual spot towards the back, or how he looked incredibly relieved when he wasn’t there. He did notice when the bus pulled up to a pale yellow house with a black porch and Janus stepped onto the bus. Roman buried his head under his scarf in his best potted plant impersonation, which worked well enough. Either that or Janus just wasn’t looking for him.

He looked over the facts. Remus had probably sent all of the letters, as it wouldn’t make much sense to specifically send one to Pat-it wouldn’t make much sense to send only one. So, Remus had sent five letters.

  1. Roman knew the first letter had arrived, and it was taking up almost all of his concentration to not think about it. 
  2. Emile probably didn’t even remember who he was, and Roman hadn’t seen him in years. They didn’t go to the same school, so there wasn’t really a reason to worry.
  3. Remy had moved since 9th grade, so the letter wouldn’t even make its way to him, which was a good thing, since he doubted Remy had ever felt the same, and he still had to get some small revenge on him for the mashed potato thing.
  4. The good news didn’t last. _Janus knew. Janus KNEW. Goddammit._ There was no solution, no way out, except possibly faking his death and joining a traveling circus under a pseudonym. Which Roman was considering doing at this point, given the fact that everything had become a Mamma Mia hellscape (sans ABBA music). Ricardo Fromage-Queijo was a good pseudonym, right??? _JANUS KNEW AND LIFE AS HE KNEW IT WAS OVER AND HIS HOPES AND DREAMS WERE SHREDDED LIKE JELLO THROUGH AN INDUSTRIAL SHREDDER!_
  5. Oh yeah, and Logan was involved somehow.



Roman was determined to not have a breakdown in a place like this school bus. Sure, elsewhere he might be sobbing, but he wasn’t going to give this villainous vehicle the satisfaction. He was an actor. He was an _actor_! He could play the part of “Stable Person” just as well as he’d played Tony in junior year’s production of West Side Story (if he could play a semi-convincing straight person, he could do anything)!

A school day passed.

He managed to keep his head held high and his eyes clear for the rest of the school day, ducking out of sight of anyone who actually knew him and carrying on like everything was totally normal. He’d almost kept up the charade for the entire day when he saw Patton in a crowd of students. Roman sprinted (calmly and casually) to the other side of the hallway and became fake-immersed in the posters on the wall.

 _Would you look at that. That poster is magenta. Weird color. And a black border? Who even designed these? This day is filled with poor color choices. Maybe poor choices in general…._ He peered at what the ugly poster was supposed to be advertising. _There’s a school dance?_

A finger tapped his shoulder. Roman spun around. Patton had seen him sprint across the hallway and was standing in front of him, eyes avoiding Roman, and picking at his sweater. _He always did that when he was nervous._ He took a deep breath, looking for all intents and purposes like he was about to jump into freezing cold water.

“Roman? There’s something I need to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news: this chapter is a few days ahead of schedule!  
> The bad news: I'm going to have to miss a week of updates, because from Saturday onward my schedule will be Madness At All Hours. Things should end up back on schedule soon.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	7. For Once, The Characters Actually Talk To Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton says what he has to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some of these characters actually have an honest discussion. This won't happen again for another twenty or so chapters.

“Roman? There’s something I need to say.”

Roman regretted ever saying invisible wasn’t his thing. If only he was made out of cellophane and could blow away in the wind. Not entirely trusting his voice, he nodded to Patton, who began speaking.

“Ro, I like you a lot, and your letter was really nice, but,” and he paused, folding his arms nervously, “I don’t like you in that way. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to change that.”

A wave of relief crashed over Roman, and his eyes lit up in happiness.  _ He still wants to be friends with me! I didn’t ruin everything! _ Patton continued.

“I know it probably took a lot to actually send a letter, but I just don’t feel like that, and I’m really sorry-”

“Patton! You don’t need to apologize! Besides, I don’t feel that way either.”

Patton blinked several times.

“Wait, what? Then why the letter?”

“That letter was from 5th grade, and as to how it was sent...I have to murder my brother. Please pretend I didn’t say that so you can have deniability.”

“We shouldn’t murder people. Unless they’ve hurt a dog, then anything goes, but otherwise, murder is wrong! But I’m getting sidetracked. It was from 5th grade?”

“Remember how we met, Valentine’s Day? I was a foolish ten-year-old who thought anyone who paid me attention would marry me one day, so I wrote the letter, and then promptly forgot about mailing it and forgot about any romantic notions towards you. I haven’t been that way since 5th grade. I promise.”

Patton nodded, his face showing all the relief Roman was feeling. All at once, they both started talking at the same time.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore-”

“I thought you wouldn’t too, and-”

“I felt so bad, you sent that letter and I didn’t feel the same-”

“I was scared you’d either hate me or worse-”

“I hate disappointing people so much-”

“Pat, you never need to feel bad for not-”

“I know, but still I-”

“I know, I know, you’re kind of my only-”

Before he could say anything else, Patton hugged him, and Roman felt his surroundings come back into focus. He’d technically been smiling all day, but the smile on his face then was the first genuine one. Some days, some acts were harder to keep up than others. Everything seemed okay for a solid seven seconds.  _ He hadn’t lost Patton! All was right. Except- _

“What’s wrong?”, Patton said, apparently noticing the panic once again splashing onto Roman’s face.

“Oh, it’s just...I’ve made some assumptions, none of them good. I assume that Remus is the one who mailed the letters since he’s the only other person with access to them. And I assume that there were letters. Plural. And finally, I assume that my current crush got one.”

“Janus?”

“Yes-wait, how did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Yeah, well, Janus knows everything now. Which is awful, and I’m considering joining a traveling circus!”

“I think talking to Janus would be a better idea. Who knows? Maybe he’s been wishing to say the same thing!”

“Fair point, but what about avoiding him forever? Also, I think I could walk a tightrope eventually.”

“Roman, you’re afraid of heights.”

“Still! Anyway, that’s a problem for Future Me. I’m just glad I still have one friend.

“Same here. Good luck with...well, everything. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Roman had so many trials ahead of him, and not all of them would go as smoothly as a simple conversation. But for now, he had an ally, and that was enough.


	8. Virgil Is Still Not Having A Fun Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has a problem and an internal monolouge.

The first time Virgil had put on a pair of roller skates, he crashed into a rack of metal folding chairs. 

He was thirteen at the time, and Remus had talked him into trying it out. Normally, Virgil knew to run in the opposite direction when his friend said something was going to be “fun” or “cool”, but he’d been very persuasive about the fun of roller rinks (“You wouldn’t  _ believe _ the stuff they fry! They had fried pickles the last time I went, so the place is my kingdom.”). 

Janus had been onboard, which was a better sign (“Even if we don’t go skating, there’s still gambling!” “Gambling?” “What is the arcade but a gateway to an early gambling habit? Here’s the secret to getting lots of tickets: bring a screwdriver and don’t get caught.”). 

So, off to the roller rink the  ~~ quartet  ~~ trio went! Virgil opted for mozzarella sticks instead of the briny monstrosity Remus shoveled into his mouth, and gambling was had (Janus was swiftly kicked out). At last, Virgil went out to do the thing people go to roller rinks to do: circle around a waxed wooden floor like a vulture on wheels. But here’s the thing. He’d never actually done anything like that before.  _ Were you supposed to walk like normal? Drag your feet like dead fish? Why had he thought this was a good idea this was a TERRIBLE IDEA!  _

After some tips, he got slightly better at moving forward. There were even some moments he didn’t have to cling to the guardrail. He started to pick up speed, his circles growing faster and faster and his fear shrinking. He felt like he was flying.  _ Maybe this hadn’t been a mistake after all? _

Finally, it was time to go home. Virgil confidently and quickly skated to the exit of the rink, past the guardrails, only to remember something important: he still had no idea how to stop. The rack of steel folding chairs ahead was happy to teach him how. If you’ve never crashed into metal chairs at sixteen miles per hour, he can safely say that it’s not a good experience. One star, would not recommend. Listen, a lot of the time when you think you’re flying, you’re just falling in a new direction.

Virgil really, really didn’t want to lose his friends. And he  _ probably _ wasn’t? Logically, both Janus and Remus going radio silent for a week could mean anything. Sure, maybe Janus was avoiding everyone and Remus had pretty much dropped off the face of the planet. Sure, maybe the last time this happened...it hadn’t been good. But he knew that he was probably worrying over nothing.

And yet Virgil was somewhat convinced that they’d both decided to ditch him for good. He couldn’t remember doing anything that would warrant that, but that wasn’t stopping him from analyzing every text and word he’d said in the previous week for evidence of some crime.  _ What did he do? What did he say? What the hell did he do? _

Virgil wasn’t great at gaining friends. For whatever reason, people found him off-putting. Then, he met the Evil Secret Society at summer camp, and things changed for the better. 

The name of “Evil Secret Society” had been Jan’s idea, though they weren’t really evil, definitely not secret, and barely a society now that they had only three members. More of a “Chaotic Neutral Infamous Coven Of Fools”, if we’re being honest. But the mostly ironic name had stuck since they were twelve and it showed no signs of disappearing. Over the last five years, they had looked out for each other and generally caused chaos. There had been setbacks.

God, there had been setbacks.

But things were better with them in his life than not. So Virgil was going to do something he hated more than anything: asking for advice. He rifled through his hoodie’s pockets for his phone, a harder task than one would think. His pockets were deep as the ocean and contained more clutter than a sunken ship. You need a stick of peppermint gum, a black eraser pulled off of the pencil out of habit, a live tarantula, or a crumpled note from an enemy who thinks he’s in love? You want it, it’s in Virgil’s pockets.

Virgil didn’t need a live tarantula. Just the phone. Just the stupid phone. Not a clingy tarantula, which he spoke to.

“Lydia, I really need my hand now, okay?”. Lydia gave no sign of hearing him one way or another (could spiders even hear?), so Virgil carefully removed her and placed her back in her terrarium. He went back to his relentless pocket search, his fingers eventually closing on a cold phone case.  _ Finally! _

Patton was friends with everyone, or at least tried to be. Roman was one of his only true friends, but he had the numbers of nearly everyone in the school and was often a go-to for advice. Then, of course, he’d be forgotten until the next petty crisis came up.

Virgil had been typing, deleting what he just said, and starting over for the past 15 minutes. 

~~ It’s Virgil ~~

~~ Hello, it’s Virgil, and I ~~

~~ Virgil here. I have a problem ~~

~~ Everything is falling apart a little ~~

~~ No, not everything’s falling apart, just this one thing ~~

~~ HELP ~~

~~ Sorry ~~

~~ Really sorry ~~

~~ Aaaagh ~~

~~ Goodbye ~~

Hey

Then, the agonizing wait. The reconsidering if the word “hey” had somehow been a terrible choice and those three letters had broken an unspoken social rule.  _ This was a mistake, this was a mistake, this was a MISTAKE, this was a-oh, he replied! _

“Virgil!! What’s going on?”

“ ~~ Roman ~~ Probably nothing, Jan and Remus have just dropped off the radar for a week”

“Wouldn’t Remus be grounded after the lab thingy?”.  _ OH. Oh. Dammit, Virgil. Freaking out over something with zero evidence….wait, Remus isn’t the only variable here _ .

“Yeah but Janus has been avoiding everyone too. He’s been acting,” Virgil wondered how to describe how he’d been acting, eventually settling on “weird.”. There was a good pause before Patton sent another message.

“i think i know why”

“Why??”

“Trust me when I say it’s not a big problem”

“WHY”

“He’ll tell you eventually!”

“PATTON”

“Go ask him!”

“He won’t TELL me!”

“Bye Virgil!!!”

“Patton Caleb Hart, I need to know he’s okay”

“How do you know my middle name? How do you know my full name? The heck?”. Virgil waited for Patton to give him the information. It all appeared in one text after barely a few seconds.

“So Roman writes love letters to his crushes and Remus sent all of the letters and one got sent to me but I talked to him and everything’s okay and Roman also wrote a letter to Janus and he’s not happy about that but that might be why Janus is acting weird”. 

Five seconds after the text was sent, it was deleted, but Virgil had read it and breathed a sigh of relief.  _ Okay! Everyone’s alive! It’s just Roman again. It’s Roman.  _ Again _. Why is it ALWAYS Roman?  _ Every time,  _ it’s  _ Roman _!  _

Virgil closed his eyes. Lately, everything had been very connected to his self-appointed nemesis. Maybe, if he faced the problem, everything would go back to normal. Time for a chat with Roman Sanders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted this one early because I won't have a chance to on the weekend. Thanks for reading!


	9. No One Cares About School Assemblies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ignores a school assembly, and some chats are had.

The teachers liked to think people paid attention during school assemblies. The teachers were all lying to themselves.

Roman couldn’t fathom how they could possibly think that people cared at all about assemblies. It wasn’t like any of the assorted teenagers were subtle about their boredom. He glanced around the room, shifting to a new position in his seat for the two hundredth time. The presenter was drawling on and on about the dangers of alcohol, or getting kidnapped, or DIY blood magic, or whatever students had to be reminded about in public service announcements.

He was sitting with his friend- _ Did he mention he was his friend? He was still his friend! _ -Patton, who had fallen asleep by this point in the presentation. It was a marvel how Patton could fall asleep on such uncomfortable seats. Maybe if Roman was in another position….Nope. Still sucked. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered. Those bulbs were much too old, as well as too bright. 

Roman scanned his classmate’s faces.  _ What’s the story today? _

His brother was sitting with his friends, but none of them were talking. They all had their plotting faces on and seemed to be too caught up in their thoughts to pay attention to each other. Remus was sticking gum under his seat with glee, while Janus clutched his armrests, his mind in some far-off scenario. Meanwhile, Virgil was-weird. Virgil was looking in his direction. As soon as their eyes met, Virgil feigned that he’d been looking at Remy, who was looking at his phone, paying no attention to anyone and texting with a smile on his face. 

Roman forgot about Virgil, wondering instead who Remy was texting with that made him smile so softly. He spun up some stories about who it could be to pass the time, as the presenter droned on, and on, and on.

Later on, the principal thanked the presenter, who nodded, tilted their head, smiled brightly, and ran out of the school at a breakneck pace long before the obligatory applause was over. Roman had run out of stories and was now just watching the fluorescent lights shoot sparks in a haze of disinterest. The principal grabbed the microphone.

“Well, wasn't that  _ lovely _ ? What an excellent speech from," and she blinked, trying to remember who'd spoken and what they'd spoken about, "the Presenter. Now, before you head on down to your classrooms, remember that the school dance is fast approaching! It approaches faster than ever this year, with its loping gait, and we  _ cannot stop it _ . We estimate it will arrive in two weeks, so fill out those permission slips, children. That will be all, now leave!"

The assorted students got up to exit the room. 

Three conversations were held on the way out the door. 

**Conversation Number One:**

As soon as he finished sticking the final piece of his gum monstrosity into place, Remus hurried to catch up with Janus. He tapped him on the shoulder. Janus spun around, annoyed to be pulled out of his schemes.

“ _ What do you want- _ Oh. Hello, Remus.”

"So, what's the dealio?".

"Dealio? There isn’t a deal, and there’s definitely not a dealio.". Remus tried to cross his arms in disbelief but found that his gum-swabbed fingers were sticking to Janus’s shoulder. He continued the conversation, attempting to make the prolonged shoulder tap seem natural, or at least a choice.

"But seriously, what’s going on? Did you murder someone?"

"What? No, Remus, I haven't murdered anyone. Recently."

"Then  _ what's the deal _ ? You've been acting sneaky lately! And not just the normal "I'm going to take over the government one-day!" schtick, either. You've been sneaky around the Society too! So, skeletons in the closet? Ghosts in the attic? The undead screaming outside your window, waiting to devour your flesh? Or is it  _ boy trouble _ ?”. 

If Remus was a betting person, rather than the type of person who stole the money of betting people and ran, he’d bet on the screaming undead over  _ boy trouble _ . Janus was in many types of trouble on the regular, but boy trouble was rarely one. And yet, Jan avoided his eyes?

“WAIT. It’s actually boy trouble?”

“Let’s go back to the part about the undead.”

“It’s actually boy trouble!”

“ _ No, it’s necromancy _ .”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You caught me, I brought back living corpses!”

“I’m going to go through people we know in alphabetical order, loudly deny it when I’m right.”. Remus grinned widely as Janus looked ready to hiss. He finally managed to unstick his fingers from his friend’s shoulder and began counting on them.

“And now, for our first guess, is it-” 

“Catch!”

He was interrupted by Janus chucking a rubber rat over his head. Remus went to find the rat (because  _ come on, who doesn’t want a rubber rat _ ), running through the maze of seats. By the time he found it, planning exactly what fun things he could do with such a lifelike creature, Janus had disappeared speedily into a crowd of students. He must have had to leap over some chairs to avoid that conversation. Remus yelled in the general direction of where he probably was.

“Meet me after school, okay?”. A hand appeared over the heads of the crowd giving a thumbs up, before slinking out of sight once more.

**Conversation Number Two:**

Patton was woken up from his short nap by the jostling of everyone leaving to go to their classes. He followed Roman but was separated from him at the door by the crowd. Before he could catch up, a boy he didn’t know popped up in front of him.

“You’re one of Roman Sanders’s friends, correct?”. Patton blinked a few times.

“Yes?”

“Excellent. Is it possible for you to meet me at the coffee shop (the one on main street that has blueberry muffins) at four o’clock?”

“What?”

“Is it possible for you to meet me at the coffee shop on main street at four o’clock? Four-thirty works as well.”

“I mean, I can make it-wait. I don’t know why we’re meeting, or what we’re meeting about, or even your  _ name _ !”

“One, should you accept, we’re meeting to discuss Roman Sanders. Two, we’re specifically meeting about a certain piece of paper with “Love, Roman” on it. As for three,” and he held out his hand for Patton to shake, “My name is Logan.”

Patton took his hand. Behind Logan, the fluorescent light finally sputtered out, glowing brightly and haloing the boy before going dark for good. After the handshake, it took him a few seconds to remember to let go. 

“Sure! I can meet you at four. Main street?”

“Indeed. Main street.”. Patton started to walk away, but Logan had a question of his own.

“If I may ask, what’s your name?” He beamed back at Logan.

“I’m Patton!”

“Patton. See you then.”

**Conversation Number Three** : 

Roman had been swept by the tide of rushing students out of the room and clung to the lockers to avoid being dragged further downstream. While clutching the rusted metal in this undignified way, he came face to face with someone he’d rather not see. 

Virgil was also desperately trying to not be carried away, digging his fingers into the slots of the locker. He looked at Roman, and he saw a spark of nervousness in those black eye shadowed eyes. As Roman was about to say something along the lines of  _ Sir, this is my locker to hold onto like I’m hanging off a cliff and the other students are wildebeests _ , Virgil spoke up first.

“Hey, Roman, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I mean, I haven’t been  _ wanting _ to talk to you.”, he rolled his eyes before continuing, “But I guess I have to.”

“The feeling of not wanting to talk is mutual, Nightmare without Christmas. So, what’s up?”. Virgil clearly hadn’t planned this far into the conversation. He picked at his nail polish, frantically trying to string together the right words. A slightly awkward silence became charged, and Virgil said the first thing that came into his head to break it.

“You want to date Janus, right?”

Roman let go of his locker in surprise, allowing himself to vanish into the current.  _ He knows too does everyone know I bet EVERYONE KNOWS NOW I AM THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF THE SCHOOL _ . He spotted Virgil a few people away, also away from his locker and trying to wave him over.

“Listen, if you want that to happen, I think I can help!”

“If you must know, I  _ would _ like that. But forgive me for being a bit suspicious of your motives?”

“It’s-look, it’s a little hard to explain.”

“What are you plotting?”

“I’m not plotting anything!”. Roman turned his head up and looked away from Virgil, looking as haughty as it was possible to be while being herded like cattle. Virgil sighed.

“Look, I kind of screwed up this talk, but if for some reason you want to know more, I’ll be outside after school.”

The hallway split in two, separating the boys before Virgil could hear Roman’s answer. 

His answer, by the way, was “Maybe.”


	10. The BEAN STORE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nerd and an optimist walk into a coffee shop.

At a few minutes past four, Patton had arrived at the coffee shop. The coffee shop was easy to notice, what with the enormous neon sign spinning over it, reading “The BEAN STORE!”. 

Patton had never understood why the exclamation point had to be there, but he thought it was cute. Like a little smile was spinning twenty feet in the air! 

He looked around for Logan, briefly worrying that he’d been kidding about meeting up (although there wasn’t any reason he’d do that, as this wasn’t even a date or anything! They were here to talk about Roman!) before spotting him standing near the door. He was staring at the sign with a perplexed expression on his face and was carrying several notebooks in his arms. Patton waved and ran over.

“Hi, Logan!”. Logan tore his eyes away from the revolving sign and turned to Patton.

“Why do you think they felt the need to capitalize ‘Bean Store’?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they thought people would forget it was a coffee shop?”

“That would make some semblance of sense, given that no one seems to buy coffee here.”

“Hey, at least they’ve got the best muffins in town! What’s your favorite kind?”

“Of muffin? Probably blueberry.”

“Me too!”. Logan shook his head at the sign one last time, opened the door, and slipped into the store. Patton followed him.

The BEAN STORE! was the second most famous coffee shop in town, which wasn’t that impressive, given that there were three coffee shops in total. Still, the owner, Scraggly Bob, had proudly put up a plaque reading “Second Most Famous Coffee Shop In Town!” nonetheless.

It wasn’t famous for its coffee, quite the opposite. It was famous for the fact that its muffins, tea, and hot chocolate were all divine...and the coffee completely undrinkable. A few hospitalizations had proved that quick enough, yet the BEAN STORE! was never shut down. Scraggly Bob’s beard grew ever longer, his teeth gleamed, and business kept soaring on.

The BEAN STORE! also had a very specific ambiance. As Patton and Logan approached the counter, an indie cover of Cotton Eye Joe played on the overhead speakers. The counter had a thick layer of grease, and Scraggly Bob peered at the boys from its other side. His hair went in one direction, his teeth in another, and his eyes in some third direction entirely. He smiled in a cunning way.

“Welcome to the BEAN STORE! Try our beans to never sleep again!”. Logan was the first to order.

“Could I have an Earl Gray and a blueberry muffin?”

“You certainly can, you certainly can. Your money?”. He put the appropriate amount of cash into the wrinkled palm. Scraggly Bob nodded, not really paying attention to how much he received. He kept his hand outstretched.

“Your name?”

“You may call me Logan.”. Scraggly Bob nodded once more, expecting that answer but disappointed. He glanced between Logan and Patton, raising his eyebrows.

“One straw...or two?”. Logan wore the perplexed look from earlier again.

“...It’s tea? So, zero straws?”

“Alright, alright. It’ll arrive at some point, find a table.”. He found a dusty table in the corner and quickly put his notebooks down. Some of them spilled onto the floor. 

Patton walked up to the counter.

“Hi, could I please get a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin?”

“Sorry, we just ran out of muffins.”

“Oh. Okay, just the hot chocolate then.”. He paid, told Scraggly Bob his name (but didn’t give it to him), and went over to Logan, who was frantically scribbling in his notebook. Patton sat on the splintered chair, waiting for him to look up. He didn’t, instead continuing to scribble and revise. Patton waved in Logan’s direction, and he closed his notes with a snap.

“Patton, right. So, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions about Roman Sanders.”. Patton felt concern rise in his throat. He’d already told Roman’s secret to Virgil. Logan had mentioned that he’d gotten a letter, so he clearly knew something, but was he betraying Roman’s trust? He’d already done the trial run of losing a friend and hadn’t liked it at all.

“Is this going to be secret? Because I’m not going to keep secrets from Roman.”

“A bit odd that you chose to meet me, then.”

“It was kind of a split-second decision? I’m here now, but I’m not going to betray anyone!”

“Alright. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a secret, but I’d also prefer it if you didn’t tell him right away.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, if he asks “Did you meet up with Logan at the BEAN STORE! to discuss me and my letter”, you can answer completely honestly. But I’d like it if you didn’t go up to him and say, unprompted, “Hey, I met up with Logan at the BEAN STORE! to discuss you and your letter”? 

After all, I expect that I’ll ask him out soon.”

“Oh. Wow. Really?”

“I mean, he did send me a letter that was quite clear about his affections. Reasonably, one of us would end up asking out the other.”  _ I have to tell him, don’t I. I really hope Roman won’t be mad... _

“Logan...you’re not the only one he sent a letter to.”. Logan blinked in surprise, frowned, and switched from his red notebook to his orange one.

“So, it  _ was _ a trick. I did consider the possibility. I did! I just thought-well, it’s inconsequential. I’ll be on my way-”

“Wait, no, it wasn’t a trick or anything like that! Roman wrote that letter a while ago, but Remus is the one who sent it.”

“Remus is his brother, the loud one? Also,  _ what on earth does that mean? _ ”

“Roman writes letters to a lot of his crushes, I think? I got one, and he kind of explained this to me. And Remus sent all of them mostly for chaos’s sake!”

“Why would he write letters to his crushes and not send them? That makes zero sense.”

“I think it was just a sweet hobby, not an actual way of talking to them-I mean, us.”

“Ah. Am I the most recent crush?”

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think so. He said something about Janus-”

“Who the hell is  _ Janus _ ?”. Scraggly Bob bellowed from the counter, waving two cups and a muffin high in the air.

“I HAVE WHAT YOU PAID FOR! COME GET IT!”. The boys sprinted, snatched up their products, and resumed sitting in their seats.

“Janus is….well, he’s a mighty interesting person.”

“You’re saying “interesting” the way people say it when they mean to say “bad”.”

“No! He’s not bad, just kinda ominous? Knows a lot about the various crimes of the 1920s, like, a  _ lot _ . Sometimes predicts doom. Did a tarot reading for me once, and I’m pretty sure he made all of it up. I think he stole a traffic cone once! That one might have been Remus.”

“I believe that I’ve heard of the guy. So, Roman’s asking him out.”

“I mean. He mostly said that he was going to avoid him for all eternity?”

“Okay, that’s-weren’t you going to get a muffin? You talked about them for a while out there.”

“Oh, they didn’t have any. Which is totally fine! The next time I come, I’ll probably-”. Patton’s train of thought was interrupted by Logan breaking his muffin in half. He held out one of the halves, and crumbs fell onto the table. Patton shook his head.

“I couldn’t, this belongs to you!”

“There’s two of us, and the muffins here are larger than average. Dividing it into two is the only sensible thing to do.”

“But you bought it.”

“And you’re providing me with a free service and advice.”

“I don’t need to put a price on that!”

“I don’t have to put a price on this half of the muffin either.” Logan’s arm hovered over his half of the table. Patton eventually nodded and took the blueberry-filled snack. 

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a problem.”. The muffin was delicious, as all of the BEAN STORE’S! baked goods were. Patton had no idea what the real ingredients were, but they were amazing! Logan fiddled with his notebooks, shuffled them around, and eventually shoved them aside.

“After this conversation, I acknowledge that my chances of dating Roman are significantly smaller. But I think I should still speak to him. Maybe it’s a poor choice, but I’d rather have a definite yes or no than a permanent “might have been”. I have some ideas, but I’ll need time to prepare and more journals. Definitely more journals. Oh, and I’ll need your help.”.

Patton didn’t like being a part of drama. He knew that it would never lead to good things. But Logan seemed like he meant well, and he had enjoyed spending time with him. If Roman was dating someone like Janus, all edges and smooth words, there’d always be that little chord of awkwardness. The classic divide between the boyfriend and the best friend. 

For some reason, it didn’t feel like there’d be a similar problem with Logan. 

Was he a bad person? A bad friend? He didn’t think so.

“Okay!”

Phone numbers were exchanged, hot chocolate and tea finished, and Patton and Logan talked for nearly an hour about school, and whatever else came to mind until it was time to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have over 10,000 words now!!!!


	11. Reluctant Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Virgil finally have their first real conversation

Roman left the school building trying his best to look calm and collected. Engaged, but disinterested. Maybe even a little bored. 

Roman was none of these things. Roman wanted to take quite a few people by the arms (Virgil, Janus, even himself) and demand to know _what on earth was happening_. 

Virgil was hard to find in a crowd when he was wearing his hoodie, the aged gray thing acting like an invisibility cloak. Sure, the guy radiated angst and “if people talk to me I’ll turn into a bat and fly away” energy, but so did most teenagers, and Virgil was adept at going unnoticed. Roman, however, had known him for nearly all of his life and could recognize the exact slush-like color of the hoodie. He ran over to him. _Calm. Collected. Disinterested._

“Hey.”

“Hey.”. A long silence followed. Roman stared at Virgil expectantly, hoping that he had a plan for this conversation because Roman certainly didn’t. After the emo didn’t speak for a full fifteen seconds, he tried to craft a sentence that wouldn’t sound, well, creepy. Which isn’t exactly easy when you’re talking about dating someone’s best friend.

“You said that you could help me earlier. Was that a serious offer, or a nefarious scheme?”. Virgil scanned the crowd as though there could be spies anywhere. 

“Can we talk somewhere without….people?”. Roman nodded, and the two of them walked off towards the woods. 

Maybe it wasn’t normal for most townsfolk to get places via forest trails. Roads were a thing, and had been for several years! Brand new asphalt had been laid, yellow lines painted, and shining stop signs assembled. And yet, the forest trails had been how people had gotten places for years, and most people continued to get places by bike or foot. That didn’t mean that Roman was happy about it.

Whenever he walked into the forest and the shadows of the pine trees loomed over him, he had an odd, sickening feeling that it wouldn’t let him leave this time. He picked at his wrist, barely noticing he was doing it. Shaking off the apprehension and lingering feeling of doom, Roman cleared his throat and began the conversation again.

“Is your nefarious plot to lure me into the woods?”

“Could you stop with the- _No_ , I don’t have a plot!”

“Alright. I still don’t trust you, you know.”

“Uh-huh. I know. So, what’s up with the love letters?”

“None of your business, JD-lightful!”. Virgil raised his eyebrows. There was something weirdly different about him. Roman couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had shifted.

“Fine, we won’t talk about the letters.”. He paused, eyebrows still raised, before continuing again in a snarky tone.

“So. Janus. _That’s a thing_.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping me with this.”

“Trust me, wonderboy, I’d love to avoid your love life like the bubonic plague. But your love life pretty much broke down the walls of my friend group like the Kool-Aid man, so now I’m stuck with this.”

“What?”

“Remus is acting weird, and Janus is acting doubly weird. Everyone’s been secretive, and the last time people were acting secretive in the group, well, you know what happened. Plus, watching you pine has been nauseating enough, but watching the _two most dramatic people in the school_ pine for each other? It’s not fun.”. Roman practically tackled Virgil into a tree.

“Janus has been PINING? After me? How long has this been happening? Are you sure? What has he said? PINING AFTER ME?”. This was all said in one breath, and Roman doubted a lot of it was coherent. And Virgil probably couldn’t pay attention to it, what with being pinned to a tree. Roman quickly released him, putting distance between them again. Virgil had a slightly unnerved look in his eyes, but there was still something distinctly different about him, and Roman froze for a few seconds, trying to figure out what it was.

The answer finally came to him: Virgil looked calm for once. Despite the awkward conversation, despite getting tackled (whoops), Virgil looked less jumpy in these woods than Roman had ever seen him look in eight years. It was an interesting effect.

Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose in a _Please give me the strength to endure being around this person_ gesture, then resumed his explanation.

“I mean, I don’t know if he’s pining. Honestly, I’ve never seen him pine for anyone. He’s really not a “boy trouble” kind of person. But what he is doing is freaking out, and that’s freaking me out, and I’m already freaked out normally, so everyone’s just kind of _freaked the fuck out_ at the moment. To stop the madness, I’m going to help you date him.”

“Oh. Oh, wow. Wow! Okay. Wow. I mean, _what?_ ”

“Once you start dating, in two weeks tops one of you will get bored with the other, move onto something shiner, and end this mess once and for all. And I can continue doing my own thing without being dragged along in this cheesy romcom. I’ll be free from living in the literal worst genre of movie!”

“I take issue with...so many of the things you just said. First, you’ve clearly never seen 2005’s Just Like Heaven starring Mark Ruffalo and Reese Witherspoon. Second, we’d be an amazing couple!”

“I’ll bet you five dollars you don’t make it three weeks.”

“I’ll bet you ten we last at least a month!”

“Deal.”. The two shook hands, glaring. Roman scowled at him.

“So, how are you even going to help? It’s not like you’re the expert on matters of the heart.”

“Roman. Have you ever even talked to Janus?”

“Of course I’ve talked to him. I’ve spoken to him not once, but twice.”

“And what did you say to him?”

“I said ‘Hi’ and ‘Miss Kelly, do you know the meaning of perjury?’.”. After Virgil had stared at him in confusion for a few seconds, he clarified, “This was when he was playing Billy Flynn in our production of Chicago. He’d just asked for his line.”. Virgil nodded.

“I’ve been friends with him for five years. And I don’t have much common sense, but I have enough to not tackle people into trees, so I might be winning in that area too. If I help you, you’ve got a better shot at this.”.

Roman considered. On the one hand, he didn’t like Virgil. But, on the other hand, he had a chance to take a million daydreams and make them real.

But, on yet another hand (where were these hands coming from?), would he like it if they did come true? What if they weren’t good in real life? What if they weren’t enough?

The thought of Virgil once again crossed his mind, only this time he was smirking because Roman had done exactly as he’d expected and proved that romance always crashed and fizzled out. 

Roman clenched his teeth. He’d show him. 

“Fine. You can help me. What’s next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy about the support this fic has been getting!!  
> I've gotten kind of attached to these characters and this AU :)


	12. Janus Believes He's Connected The Dots (He Hasn't Connected Shit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's easy to forget that this story started with a letter to our favorite snake. Let's check in on him.

On the other side of town, in an abandoned out-of-order checkout line, Janus was thinking about murder. 

This was completely normal for him, but this time stands out because this time he worried he’d be the one assassinated. He couldn’t say it came as a surprise, given certain things, but the would-be-assassin was...confusing. 

Janus opened the letter for what was probably the seven-hundredth time, fingers staining with red glitter. 

_ “Dear, Janus”-That’s a Hamilton reference. This would be charming if not for the fact that Alexander Hamilton died in a duel, so this letter already starts out as a threat!  _

_ “Why then, you may wonder, have I not asked you out? Good question”-Crafting an alibi, are we?  _

_ “Slight tangent: I would have been a better Roxie”-Roxie Hart committed murder in Chicago. Now the threat is blatant!  _

_ “Janus, I think you’re the guy for me”-THE GUY YOU’RE GOING TO ASSASSINATE? Is that right, “Love, Roman”? Well! I’ve got news for you. Better, more competent people than you have tried and failed to kill me, so-so there! Besides, the final damning evidence: your little letter has 340 words, which is divisible by twenty. And anyone with  _ basic _ knowledge of tarot cards could tell you that card #20 is Judgement.  _

_ Only one consideration: How the hell did you find out?  _

A cashier tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me, this is a supermarket. If you’re just going to stand over that paper and mutter ominously under your breath instead of buying anything, you’re going to have to leave.”. Janus placed a single pack of gum onto the (out of order) checkout line, hoping it wasn’t cinnamon. Cinnamon flavored gum tasted like pain. The cashier glared at him. Janus figured he should probably explain, for fear of getting banned from this place too.

“I’m waiting for someone, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”. Right on time, Remus entered the store with a crash. He was holding- _ not again _ -a fluorescent traffic cone in his arms and cackling with glee. His hoodie was stained with some new substance- _ please let that be ketchup _ -and his hair was askew. He smacked into the out-of-order checkout line, grinning that infectious grin that advertised mischief like a neon sign. Janus found a smile sneaking its way onto his face to match, and he turned away before his friend could see.  _ This is serious business, after all.  _

“You’re late.”. Remus, winded from running, pointed to the cone.

“I got caught up in traffic!”. Janus covered his mouth to disguise his laughter.  _ How do you delicately tell someone that their brother is probably trying to murder you? _

“Remus. I’m afraid that I have some bad news.”.  _ Unless he’s in on it? No. He wouldn’t do that. _

“Right! The boy trouble!”.  _ Even still, it would be a poor idea to reveal how much I know, in case he accidentally lets something slip. I mean, he and Roman don’t talk. But still. _

“Ah, yes. The  _ boy trouble, _ that’s certainly,”  _ just lie _ , “a thing. It’s a thing. And it’s a thing that’s happening to me.”

“So? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Um, you don’t know him. He doesn’t go to our school.”. Remus got a suspicious look in his eyes.

“How’d you meet him?”

“He’s from Seattle. I met him there, you know, in Seattle!”

“And what’s his name?”

“Well, his name is-it’s-”

“He has a name, right, Janus?”

“.....Pierre. His name is Pierre.”

“Sure, Jan.”. Remus stared at him, eyebrows raised. A silence grew. Finally, Janus sighed.

“Fine. You know him.”

“Well? Is it Patton?”

“Ugh, no! No, he lives in your house.”. An entirely different smile than the previous one appeared on Remus’s lips. This one was-well, if Janus didn’t know his best friend, he’d almost call it soft.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, your brother sent me a love letter and I have no idea what to do with any of this.”. Remus’s smile strained.

“Oh.”. Janus continued, oblivious.

“I mean, who even sends love letters anymore? It’s like something out of an old-fashioned novel. And don’t get me wrong, I like a lot of old-fashioned novels, but we can’t overlook the fact that often characters end up  _ dead in swimming pools _ . Which brings me to my next point: why would Roman want me dead?”

“That escalated quickly! Are you sure we’re still talking about my brother?”

“Unless there’s another Roman who’s related to you, no.”. Remus widened his eyes in fake fear.

“Crap, I thought I got rid of all the doppelgangers!”. Janus mock-gasped, playing along.

“The clones escaped?”

“The fucking  _ clones _ escaped again!”

“The apocalypse is nigh.”

“They could be anyone! Tell me something only Janus would know.”

“Hmm. You once snorted several packs of Kool-aid powder, and claimed that I dared you to do it when I actually tried my hardest to stop you.”

“Anyone could tell that about me at a glance! Imposter!”. And with that, Remus held a checkout divider like a sword in his direction. Janus grabbed a checkout divider of his own, and a duel began.

Five minutes later, the boys sat on the parking lot curb, having been kicked out of the supermarket. It had been worth it. 

“Look, the only person my brother would want dead is me, since I sent his letters.”

“ _ You _ sent the letter?”

“Letters. Roman does this thing where whenever he has a crush, he writes a letter to that person. Thing is, you’re his current crush.”. Janus blinked in surprise. He then realized that the blink hadn’t been dramatic enough, and blinked again.

“ _ What? _ ”. He hadn’t considered that the letter had been honest _. _ Assassination attempts, he could deal with that, but someone  _ genuinely liking him _ ? This was confusing! And alarming! And, well, kind of flattering. He was the object of feelings, which didn’t happen a lot. This sort of thing should happen to him more often, dammit!

“Gross as it is to discuss Ro’s love life, do you feel the same way? Because if you do, I could help.”. Then there was Remus. Remus, his best friend. Remus, with his crooked, infectious smiles.

Remus, who seemed perfectly willing to help him go date another guy.

Janus was no romantic. He wasn’t opposed to romance, but the idea of spilling your feelings into a sappy love letter?  _ Blech _ . 

He was a firm believer in “the first one to say ‘I love you’ loses”. And what even was attraction, anyway? How were you supposed to know if you really liked someone? 

Well, he liked being liked. That was practically the same thing.

“I do. And I'd like that, thank you.”. Absentmindedly, he put a stick of gum into his mouth, before spitting it out in a frenzy. _Cinnamon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, I love mutual pining.


	13. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sampling of texts sent over the next few days

**Transcript of some of the texts sent over the following days**

**Roman:** Virgil

Virgil

Hey Virgil

_ (Virgil read at 5:55 pm) _

Hi! So when you said you were going to help me

Like when is that happening

**Virgil:** Sanders, it’s been three hours

**Roman:** The sooner this happens, the sooner I get my ten dollars!

**Virgil:** I’ve never done MATCHMAKING before

**Roman:** I have

It was a disaster

Don’t envy anyone who has to do it

No offense

**Virgil:** None taken.

And btw, I’m getting the ten dollars

\----------

**Patton:** Look at this cat!

_ (Patton sent an attachment) _

It’s sneezing!!

**Logan:** Donna Griffiths

**Patton:** ?

**Logan:** Donna Griffiths was a woman from Worchestire, England who holds the record for the longest sneezing fit, from the 13th of January, 1981, to the 26th of July, 1983. The sneezing fit took up the duration of 976 days.

So that could be the cat’s name

**Patton:** Kerfuffle Griffiths!

**Logan:** Kerfuffle?

**Patton:** It looks like a Kerfuffle

**Logan:** How does it

Sure

\----------

**Remus:** Geese are going to inherit the Earth one day

Nothing we can do to stop it

It will be a lovely day, and we’ll all meet horrible, bloody fates

BEWARE THE GEESE

**Janus:** Thank you. I really needed that dread at 1 am.

**Remus:** This is what they’d look like with carnivore teeth

_ (Remus sent an attachment) _

**Janus:** AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA? 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

PUT THAT MONSTROSITY BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME

**Remus:** BEHOLD! Our future overlords!!

**Janus:** NO

\----------

**Roman:** So, what does Janus even like?

**Virgil:** Summoning dark forces.

**Roman:** Um

What else does Janus like?

**Virgil:** Idk, bagels?

Everyone likes bagels

Throw a bagel at him

That might make him like you

**Roman:** Yes. Having food thrown at you is very romantic.

Totally doesn’t get old casserole in your hair…

Hint hint

**Virgil:** Did you actually type “hint hint”

**Roman:** Yes, I did.

Double hinting with artificial nacho cheese on top

**Virgil:** You do remember tossing that lasagna at me at the Halloween dance, right??

**Roman:** Excuse me, lasagna is the food of kings!

The school’s chicken casserole doesn’t have any actual chicken in it. 

**Virgil:** Wouldn't surprise me

What do they even put in that thing?

**Roman:** Maybe radioactive waste?

**Virgil:** Maybe Scraggly Bob’s coffee

**Roman:** THAT’S TOTALLY IT

I bet it’s secretly turning the people who eat it into gorgons!

**Virgil:** Well, if you turn into a gorgon, I’m sorry

Don’t turn people to stone

**Roman:** If people can’t look away, it’s understandable

\----------

**Logan:** A few extra questions.

**Patton:** Okay

**Logan:** 1\. Does Roman have any life threatening allergies, 2. If anyone has succeeded in courting him before, how did they do it, 3. Does he like random trivia about space, 4. What is the probability of Janus asking him before me?

**Patton:** Alrighty.

1) Nope! He kind of sneezes around mildew, but he won’t die from it

2) He’s usually the one who does any courting, and he hasn’t really had a long-term boyfriend. The people who’ve said they liked him back didn’t stick around for long.

I shouldn’t have told you that, so please forget it

**Logan:** Forgotten.

**Patton:** 3) I can’t think of a reason why someone wouldn’t like random trivia, so yeah!

4) Janus is sort of hard to predict? I’ve never seen him be like that towards anyone, but if he wanted to he could. He seems kinda silver-tongued

\----------

**Janus:** aowiuvboqwiwubr

what

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

**Remus:** I meant what I said

**Janus:** You said “Ты умрешь через десять лет, шесть месяцев, шестнадцать дней и два часа 🐊🐊🐊”

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

**Remus:** Decay is an extant form of life

**Janus:** Well, that’s ominous.

**Remus:** I pride myself on it!

**Janus:** Do you know how Virgil’s been doing? 

**Remus:** Nope, but he’d probably flip his lid if he knew you might date Ro

\----------

**Virgil:** I finally figured out a plan for you to date Janus

**Roman:** Ooh, let’s hear it

**Virgil:** So sometimes me and the ESS go to this roller rink

**Roman:** What are ESS, Egrets of a Substandard Size?

**Virgil:** Egrets of a Substandard Size? I don’t think they exist

**Roman:** YOU KNOW THE PRINCESS BRIDE

**Virgil:** no 

i don’t

**Roman:** Praise the heavens above, he’s seen something that wasn’t made by Tim Burton

**Virgil:** That’s slander, and we’re getting off topic. The ESS are the Evil Secret Society, but you know them as my friends.

**Roman:** Of course. Do you have matching jackets?

**Virgil:** We go to this roller rink. I think it would be a good place to talk to Jan, because if something goes wrong, what happens at the rink stays at the rink

Does Saturday work for you?

**Roman:** Saturday works! This is going to be awesome!!

\----------

**Remy:** Patton?

**Patton:** Yes?

**Remy:** nvm

\----------

**Virgil:** Janus.

**Janus:** Virgil.

_ (An exchange of memes are sent) _

**Virgil:** Hey, are you going to be at the roller rink on Saturday?

**Janus:** Perhaps I will…

**Virgil:** Seriously though

**Janus:** Sure. Why?

_ (Virgil read at 5:55 pm) _

\----------

**Roman:** How’s the heist planning going?

**Patton:** I’ve been kinda distracted lately, but I found another cluster of vents!

**Roman:** Nice!

Can you come to the roller rink with me on Saturday? I think I might need moral support

**Patton:** Sure thing, what’s going on?

**Roman:** For secrecy’s sake, I’m not going to reveal anything just yet, but believe me when I say you’ll like it.

\----------

**Logan:** I feel unprepared to ask Roman anything that I come up with during school hours. In case of crushing failure, I’d prefer to not have classmates around.

**Patton:** You’re going to do great!

**Logan:** But on the off chance of crushing failure

**Patton:** I mean, he’s going to be at the roller rink on Saturday?

**Logan:** Saturday? That might be too soon, I’ve barely had any time to prepare, I need at least one more notebook minimum

I mean

Saturday works for my schedule, yes.

Could we meet up on Friday to discuss things?

**Patton:** Okay!

\-------

**Janus:** All of this crush business is peculiar

**Remus:** It’s even weirder when it’s your BROTHER

Like, I don’t want to know about who Roman thinks is hot, but now it’s inescapable

**Janus:** You could have not sent the letters, you know

**Remus:** But CHAOS

Still. I probably shouldn’t have

\----------

**Virgil:** You’re never going to get me to watch Just Like Heaven 

Give it up

**Roman:** Reese Witherspoon is a living goddess, and must be appreciated!

**Virgil:** I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not watching some cheesy hallmark movie

**Roman:** It has Mark Ruffalo in it

**Virgil:** Unless he turns into the Hulk, that doesn’t make it any less boring

**Roman:** Fine. Be an Incredible Sulk. See if I care.

**Virgil:** If you didn’t care about this, we wouldn’t be texting about it at the devil’s hour, but here we are

**Roman:** Listen, I’m taking my mind off of things, okay??

**Virgil:** The same things?

**Roman:** YES! 

The same things, things meaning MY HEART

**Virgil:** Okay

Not saying it won’t be a disaster

It totally could be

**Roman:** So comforting, thanks

**Virgil:** But talking to him is better than saying nothing and not knowing what could have happened

God

Now I’m giving advice?

Really shouldn’t text at the devil’s hour

Anyway, the sooner this is over, the sooner I get my ten dollars

**Roman:** I’m totally getting the ten dollars

**Virgil:** Dream on, wonderboy


	14. Logos, Ethos, Pathos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Patton meet up to discuss strategy.

Logan had twenty-seven notebooks on the kitchen table.

Fifteen of them were just part of his general notebook hoard and didn’t really need to be there, but he might need scrap paper, so they stayed. 

Four of them were full of getaway plans in case things went incredibly wrong and he had to leave the state out of embarrassment (two of them were decoys, just in case).

One was where he kept track of all of his notebooks, including the remaining ones.

And the remaining ones? Well, those were the cornerstones of his plan.

_ Notebook No. 14, purple: All the reasons I should just cut my losses (so to speak) and move on from this. _

_ Notebook No. 12, yellow: Everything I learned (and then proceeded to forget) in debate class. _

_ Notebook No. 28, light green: My plans for if/when the dead rise from the earth and the apocalypse begins. This is, of course, a highly improbable scenario, but less improbable than several apocalypse ideas, and people really need to consider every possibility. _

_ Notebook No. 22, orange: What to do if it was all a lie or joke _

_ Notebook No. 19, cornflower blue: Notes on my informant, aka Patton Hart (He likes cats more than the average person. He smiles more than the average person. He enjoys the song Vienna, by Billy Joel). _

_ Notebook No. 1, red: Notes on the current romantic interest, Roman Sanders. _

_ Notebook No. 3, indigo: The most recent and practical plan for winning love and not making a fool of myself. _

He shuffled his notebooks around, ordering them by color, number, probability of being used, and every other possible category to distract himself from how tempting the purple notebook’s argument got by the minute. The doorbell rang, two minutes and thirty-three seconds late, and he ran to let his informant in.

Patton had worn a new sweater every time Logan had seen him, and the pattern continued today. This new design was gray with a frolicking dachshund and the words “Paw-some” stitched into the background, and while the pun was somewhat painful, Logan couldn’t help but wonder if he’d created it himself. He knew facts about many subjects, but his sweater stylizing knowledge was somewhat lacking (although he  _ could _ give an educated guess that yarn was involved somehow). It was excellent handiwork-wait, Patton was talking.

“Hi!”

“Hello.” 

“Are you going to let me in? This doorstep is really nice, don’t get me wrong-”.  _ Dammit, Logan. Don’t stand there admiring, step aside, and let him in the house. _

“You could even call it a- _ door _ -able!”.  _ Or maybe I shouldn’t. _ Logan hurriedly moved out of the way, and eventually, they sat at the kitchen table. He adjusted his glasses and notebooks one more time (placing the purple notebook out of his sight), before beginning to speak.

“Thank you again, Patton, for helping me.”

“No problem!”

“Now, I’ve come up with a final plan for the encounter at the roller rink on Saturday, and written it out in some detail in this notebook.”. Logan passed the notebook at the top of the stack to Patton, clicking a pen as he waited for him to read it. Patton began reading aloud.

“ _ I’ve never understood the concept that the living dead’s weakness is fire. They wouldn’t be able to feel pain, and it would take hours for them to completely burn away. Note to future self: Never set a possessed corpse on fire. Now, you have a dead body and you’re on fire, which, I can imagine, is an unpleasant experience _ -”

“Not that one! My apologies, I meant the indigo one. My plan doesn’t involve starting the zombie apocalypse, I swear.”

“Got it! You know, if the zombie apocalypse started, I’d finally get to have dogs.”. In response to Logan’s confused look, he added, “I have this whole plan where I’m going to either adopt or steal every adorable pet from this one local shelter. And the guy who owns the shelter doesn’t really care much about the animals, so he’d probably leave them behind if there were zombies, so I’d adopt all of them without even needing to pull off a heist or use the blueprints!”

“Blueprints?”

“Sometimes I wake up and realize I drew blueprints in my sleep. So, I went to city hall and I realized that they were the schematics for the shelter. Is that weird? It’s weird, I’m sorry, this was probably a lot of information-”

“No! I mean, it’s objectively strange, but in an incredible, fascinating way!”. Logan restrained himself from coming up with ways to scientifically test the phenomenon, as  _ Hey, can I stay at your house? It’s for an experiment _ didn’t seem like the type of thing you could say to people, no matter how fascinating they were. Patton had his face buried in the indigo notebook, but for a few seconds Logan thought he’d seen him blush. After a little while, he tilted his head and asked a question.

“Logos, ethos, pathos?”. Before Logan could stop himself, he lept into Explanation Mode.exe.

“Yes. You see, the easiest way for me to win over Roman is to not trip over my words and start rambling. Therefore, I need to plan out what I am to say. Once I've planned out what I am to say with the principles of Logos, Ethos, and Pathos, all that's left to do is talk to him.”

“What happened to speaking from the heart?”

“If your heart is speaking to you, you need to go to the hospital. Besides, that’s where pathos comes in. I was on the debate team for four years, and if they taught me anything, it’s 1) arguing against yourself won’t get you a good grade, even if your facts are immaculate, and 2) Aristotle’s principles of persuasion: Logos, ethos, pathos.

Logos is the appeal to reason. It’s often seen via charts, graphs, and statistics, but it can be any sort of logical argument. This one’s my personal favorite, as it requires no speculation into whatever goes on with other people’s morals and thoughts. Facts can’t be changed by personal opinion or likeability.

Next, there’s ethos, or appeal to character. It is an attempt to convince the target that the advertiser is ethical and dependable. The commonly used example is a celebrity endorsement, but there must be other ways to use the appeal. After all, it’s not like a celebrity endorsement will help me ask out someone on a date.

Finally, there’s pathos. My...least favorite. Pathos is the appeal to emotions, such as joy, sadness, anger, guilt, etcetera. Translating emotions into words is a foregone endeavor, in my opinion, but it seems to work on people when done right. Which I hardly ever do. Which is probably why, if this plan works, it’ll be the first time one of these went according to plan. Which is why I need your help.

You and Roman have been friends for years, whereas I was friends with him for a couple of months until I realized that his feelings for me were not of the platonic nature. I didn’t know how to deal with it and distanced myself, which is something that I truly regret. Objectively, it doesn’t do to dwell on the past, but, objectively, I fucked up. 

I can’t mess up anything this time around.”. Logan stopped, out of breath and half-worried that Patton would leave right then and there, because he’d overshared about, well, everything. Too many facts, too much personal information, too much history, just-too much. 

Patton stayed.

Later, a note was written in a cornflower blue notebook.

_ Patton is fascinating. He apparently draws mysterious blueprints in his sleep, can create stylish sweaters with awful puns on the front, insists on pronouncing “Aristotle” like “Chipotle”, doesn’t seem to mind incoherent rambling, loves talking about all of the dogs he sees in his day-to-day life, has somehow convinced me that I’m not going to screw everything up (take that, No. 14), randomly bursts out into the song All Star, and has a laugh that can only be described as a “giggle”, which I heard a lot of today. Most fascinating of all, he seems to enjoy my company, and I likewise enjoy his.  _

_ Also, he told me that “infinitesimal” means incredibly small, rather than incredibly big. So, I’ve been using that wrong for years now. DAMMIT. _


	15. At The Roller Rink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, nearly every character is going to be at the same place.

Wheelies Roller Rink prided itself on being open during all hours. Day hours, night hours, forbidden hours, whatever the hour the roller rink was there. Except, of course, July 22nd. 

Never July 22nd.

Roman had biked to the rink by way of the forest. He’d been to the place maybe twice in his life, both times purely for the arcade, but he hadn’t remembered it being so small. It was definitely larger than a shed, but barely the size of a barn, which was odd considering that the parking lot stretched on for what felt like miles. 

He wondered for a second if he’d rode to the wrong place, but the cardboard sign was duct-taped to the entrance:  _ Wheelies Roller Rink! Because humans deserve to go fast too. _

Roman shrugged and entered the building.

It was so much bigger on the inside. Arcade machines glittered, the smell of fried things wafted across the room, and the gentle whoosh of skates echoed throughout the building. The carpet looked like the ’80s had thrown up on it, which seemed to be the attitude of the building in general. Some pulsing Icelandic pop song played at top volume, rattling Roman’s eardrums. He looked around, trying to find the ticket counter in the shiny chaos. Finally, he spotted the words  _ Tickets! They  _ **_Are_ ** _ Here  _ in cardboard above a bored-looking ticket salesperson and ran over.

“Hi, could I have one ticket, please?”. The bored salesperson nodded but continued playing a game on their phone under the counter. They looked to be around Roman’s age, and their name tag (also made of cardboard) had  _ Elliott  _ written on it in purple sharpie. After a solid three minutes, they looked up.

“You’re still here? I mean,  _ welcometowheeliesrollerrinkwherehumansgettogofasttoohowcanIhelpyou _ .”

“Could I have one ticket?”

“Yep. Uh-huh. But can you do me a favor first?”

“Yes?”

“Please. For the love of all that’s holy. Look at the sign first.”. The sign (cardboard and sharpie once more) read  _ For the love of all that’s holy: WE DON’T TAKE CREDIT OR FIRSTBORNS.  _ Roman didn’t have a credit card or a firstborn, so all was well there. He bought the ticket, got his skates, accepted a flyer for the local roller derby thing, and waited on the sidelines of the rink.

Slight problem that he should have considered before now: he'd never skated in his life.

The first time Virgil had put on a pair of roller skates, he crashed into a rack of metal folding chairs. The second time, he crashed again, but into a plain old wall instead. The third time, the fourth time, and even the fifth time ended in crashes as well.

The sixth time, he stayed on his feet.

The nineteenth time, he outpaced Janus.

Somewhere around the two hundredth time, he was trying out for roller derby, and by some amazing mistake, he got on the team.

By the time of this tale, he’d been on the Killjoys (what can he say, the team is run by a bunch of emos) for two years, and loved it. He had finally gotten to be the jammer a few months back, and he hadn’t fallen that time. Somehow, he’d been able to score his way to victory.

That Saturday, he whirled around the track like a spur-winged goose while he waited. The world whooshed around him until he spotted Roman wobble onto the rink. Virgil tried not to smile and skated over to him, stopping on a dime.

“Have you skated before?”. Roman scoffed, holding onto the side of the rink, knuckles white.

“There are certain speeds that humans should go at, and we don’t, in fact, deserve to go faster.”

“Roman, have you ever been in a car?”

“ _ That’s different! _ ”

“If you say so.”. Roman scrambled around, trying and failing to get his footing. After a little while of that, Virgil spoke up.

“Do you want a few tips?”

“Nope! Everything is fine! Believe me, I won’t be defeated by  _ wheels _ .”. And, with that, he let go of the handrail and promptly crashed into Virgil, knocking them both over onto the waxed wood with a yelp. 

Roman ended up cushioned by Virgil, who knew how to fall (he had maybe too much experience), but more importantly knew that  _ you don’t stay down in the middle of the rink if you don’t want to be roadkill _ . He quickly tackled Roman back towards the wall, and they stayed in the corner. 

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief before realizing that they probably shouldn’t be  _ quite _ so close to each other. The moment seemed to freeze and drag on for longer than it had any right to. Virgil quickly looked away from Roman and pointed at a wall, staring at it intently.

“I crashed into that once!”

“That wall?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“It hurt! A lot!”

“Sounds like it would.”

“Well, it did.”

“Yep.”

“Yep.”. They nodded at each other, trying to act casual. Finally, they scooted apart and Roman struggled to his feet.

“I think I might actually want a few tips.”

Logan arrived at Wheelies prompt and on time, and tried not to freak out.  _ Soon, I will come face to face with Roman Sanders again. Mental screaming in 3, 2, 1- _

In a futile effort to distract himself, he went to the prize counter to see what was being sold at ridiculous prices these days. He looked at the cardboard signs, but could barely focus on the scribbled numbers, and they all seemed to blend together into a mathematical strew. He tore his eyes away from them and scanned the prizes.  _ Dead lizard, a cherry ring pop, DIY blood circle drawing kit, a leaf that I’m fairly certain they just picked off the ground, Carl, cool erasers...the ordinary stuff.  _ He paced-or, more accurately, rolled-around the general arcade area, finally coming across the claw machine. 

_ Of course. In my moment of greatest weakness: the claw game. So, we meet again, do we? Back to taunt my lack of hand-eye coordination, are you? Just when I think I’m done with my old foe, it returns.  _ He brandished a quarter in a slightly threatening way.  _ Round 652. Let’s do this.  _

Logan had played the claw machine many times in the past. He hadn’t won a single time, and his obsession with the game was a bit worrisome. Normally, he knew to stay far away from the thing, but his anxious pacing had carried him all over the arcade, and he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and now he stood face to face with the thing.

He carefully maneuvered the claw, trying to find the prize that stuck out the most. And there it was! A stuffed approximation of some creature that definitely didn’t exist anywhere on this Earth, in the statistically best area to attempt to take it! He pressed the button, and the prize was grabbed. Finally, he’d beaten the odds. Finally, the nightmare had ended.

The claw gave a small lurch, letting go of the prize, sending it plummeting like Logan’s hopes and dreams.

“No! You malodorous machine, I  _ had  _ it! I  _ had  _ it! I know that this is all a scam, and you’re probably programmed to drop the prize, but why? What do you gain from the destruction of happiness? What is your endgame?

I really need a good omen right now. A sign or something showing that this isn’t going to end in disaster. I’m aware that there is no scientific basis for these things, but I still want them!

I have a plan. I have a plan, and I’m going to stick to it. I’ve planned out exactly what I’m going to say.”. He leaned against the claw game, eyes tightly shut as he remembered what he was going to say to Roman.

“‘Hello there, I can’t believe we bumped into each other, what a coincidence! I mean, I don’t believe in coincidence. Or destiny, or fate, or any of that. But, I do think that it’s a “fortunate” circumstance that I found you, since I do really want to talk.

I’m not a believer in things like fate. But, random chance led somehow to you sending me a love letter. And, when random chance leads to something good, people tend to call it Luck. 

If you no longer have or wish to pursue the romantic feelings expressed in the letter, I understand. It’s been two years since we’ve drifted out of touch, and you’ve probably moved on. I just want to say: I regret that we feel out of touch, and now, somehow, we get a chance to talk again. And it would be an excellent outcome, in my opinion, if we could continue to have more conversations.

Formal language aside. Would you like to go to the movies with me?'”

“Were you talking to the claw machine? Because that was super sweet, but I have a boyfriend, so.”. Logan’s eyes snapped open. There was a guy with faded pink hair, round glasses, and a brown sweater in line for the game, staring at him. He’d accidentally monologued in the arcade line.  _ Not again. _ He sighed, tired.

“Yes. I was talking to the claw machine.”. To his credit, pink hair nodded like this was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

“Okay! That was a touching moment, but I’m kind of in line, so if I could just….play the game, that would be great!”. Logan moved aside as quickly as possible.

Patton was the second-to-last to arrive at the roller rink. He searched far and wide for both Logan and Roman, but at that moment Roman had just been tackled into a corner and Logan’s anxious pacing was a blur, so he didn’t have much luck. He ordered some fried blueberries as he waited.

He hadn’t been back to this place in ages! God, he used to love skating around, going in circles until the world was wood floors and Icelandic pop, then buying the cheapest food at the counter: Something Covered In Cheese (You Don’t Want To Know What). 

Of course, after Janus had accidentally gotten him banned by stealing a DIY blood circle drawing kit and running away, leaving the owner of the rink to pin the crime on whatever kid was nearest, he had to stop going. He hoped that he wouldn’t get kicked out.

It had been over five years. The owner of the rink probably didn’t even recognize him.

Roman was starting to get the hang of skating! He’d been able to let go of the wall for a while and was starting to be able to let go of Virgil’s arm. He knew how to move the skates now (gliding, not walking) and was considering how to stop (he still couldn’t). He hadn’t expected the resident Killjoy to be so patient about this, but stranger things had happened.

Round and round they skated, hand in hand (only for balance’s sake!), chatting. The world turned into waxed wood and neon and chipped black nail polish.

Then, he saw the door to the rink open, and the last person had arrived. 

Janus was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially halfway done with the fic!  
> According to my plans, that is, and those could be derailed.


	16. At The Roller Rink Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly everyone's at the roller rink. What's going to happen? Find out here!   
> Chapter synopses are easier when you write them like clickbait headlines.

Elliott pinched the bridge of their nose in exasperation the instant they saw Janus come into the building. 

“Not you. Not again. Not here, not today, not at this roller rink.”. Janus rested his elbow on the ticket counter, tilting his head and putting on the most charming smile he knew.

“Elliott! Eliott, Eliott, Ell-”

“I literally don’t care how many times you say my name. You’re not getting into this place without money.”

“Money! Right, that is certainly a thing that exists.”

“Do you have ten dollars?”

“Well. I may not have that specific amount of dollars on my person, but I have something  _ much _ better!”

“And here we go….”

“Have you considered the latest, most lucrative form of payment:  _ Firstborns _ ? Someday, I will have a child, and Elliott? That child could be yours if you let me into this arcade!”

“Read the sign, you Bill Cipher wannabe.”. Janus looked at the cardboard sign.  _ For the love of all that’s holy: WE DON’T TAKE CREDIT OR FIRSTBORNS.  _ He gave it a disdainful glare.

“It’s written in Sharpie. It can hardly be company policy.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many legal documents are written in Sharpie here.”

__________

Meanwhile, Roman was leaning on the railing of the rink, like someone watching the horizon on a grand ship centuries ago. Someone off to seek their fortune, or see new places, or return home to their true love.

In reality, he was watching the latest target of affection attempt to bargain his way into a ticket, and wondering why Virgil was behind that fake potted plant in the corner. 

_ This is my moment. A simple conversation and everything will sort itself out. Love at first sight’s been wrong the other times, so the chances of it being wrong this time around must be small. The world is going to feel like fireworks! _

_ But seriously. What’s the deal with the plant? _

Virgil was crouched behind a plastic-leafed plant, hiding from view. Roman could hear him muttering something along the lines of “this was a mistake” and “terrible friend”. Roman pushed aside one of the unnaturally green leaves.

“Why?”

“You’re giving away my position.”

“But….why?”

“I just realized that this was a really stupid idea. So, I’m going to be hiding here for the next couple hours or maybe days. Tell Remus to feed my tarantula, if we’re still friends after this.”

“You have a real tarantula? You’re actually a member of the Adams Family.”. Virgil pulled on the strings of his hoodie, completely covering his face. Roman sat on the ground, a couple of feet away from him.

“I just realized, I never thanked you for helping me out! Kind of ungentlemanly of me-”

“Don’t. I just set up a blind date. A goddamn  _ blind date _ . Which was a stupid idea, and by the end of this everyone in Wheelies Roller Rink will personally wish for my death.”

“I doubt  _ everyone _ in Wheelies will wish for your death.”

“Yeah, maybe the guy by the claw machine will let me off the hook. Lucky me.”

“I won’t wish for your death.”. There was a brief pause, and Roman could just barely  see Virgil’s eyes under the shadow of the hoodie. He snapped out of whatever thoughts had gone through his mind and put on a bitter smile.

“Let’s just see how this goes before you make up your mind.”

__________

Meanwhile, Janus was on to offering assassinations.

“Elliott. You remember that Mitchell guy?”

“My ex-boyfriend? Yeah, of course I remember.  _ Where are you going with this? _ ”

“If you wanted, I could... _ you know. _ Take him out.”

“As in dinner, or as in murder?”

“Well, I can’t exactly say in the presence of cameras-”

“Either way, no!”

“Dang. That usually works.”

__________

Meanwhile, Logan skated over to Patton, a smile on his mouth, and a scream in his eyes that could be seen despite him being six feet away and wearing glasses.

“Patton, excellent to see a friendly face that isn’t a claw machine, do you know where he is?”

“No clue. Are you doing okay?”

“Well, I’m alive and don’t have influenza, so there’s always that.”

“I mean, that’s a way to put it...”. Logan circled Patton’s table a few times like a spooked hawk before eventually coming to a stop. Patton couldn’t help but worry. 

“Are you sure that you want to do this? Because if you don’t, that’s totally fine. Roman doesn’t even know you’re here, let alone about to ask him-”

“No, I have to go through with this. I threw away my shot in tenth grade. I refuse to throw away chances again. I’m simply nervous, which is a normal reaction to all of this, and I think that the short-term remedy is ignoring my circumstances and talking about something else. 

How are you doing? Have you ever read Hound of the Baskervilles?”. Patton stared at a blinking arcade machine, trying not to reveal how long it took him to think about how he was, in fact, doing. He gave up on that matter after a few seconds, choosing the second question.

“Nope, but anything with a hound in it is sure to be good! What’s it about?”. Logan’s face lit up brighter than the glow of the arcade games, and he launched into an explanation. 

Patton, being fairly unknowledgeable about the details of the Sherlock Holmes canon, didn’t completely understand everything he was talking about, but the passion was infectious. Logan’s glasses were slipping down his face, and his hands gestured quickly to go with the story, and his smile was now genuine and beamed. Patton felt happy. Not cheerful, not an old coat of cheer put on to keep warm, but  _ happy  _ right t here in that moment at the food court section of Wheelies, with Logan sitting next to him.

__________

Meanwhile, Janus was attempting flattery. It wasn’t working.

“Elliott-”

“Janus.”

“That’s a nice vest, Elliott.”

“Thanks! I got it with commonly accepted currency, like how people buy things.”

“Ugh. I mean, if whoever you got it from saw how well it brought out your eyes, you could probably have gotten it for free.”

“That’s not how capitalism works.”

__________

Meanwhile, Virgil had extracted himself from the potted plant, and was back on the rink, outskating his thoughts. Or, at least, he was before the guy in front of him stopped suddenly and he had to swerve. Virgil came to a halt and flipped off the guy in question behind his back.  _ Asshole. Oh, wait, I know that asshole.  _ Remy was there and had apparently decided to take a phone call in the middle of the roller rink.

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. _Seriously?_ Wow. _Seriously?_ I cannot-I _cannot_ _believe_ -okay, I’m going to need you to call me back. Yeah, we’ll talk soon, but I’m on a date with Em right now. Still have no idea what I did to get a guy like him to stick around with me...uh-huh. I’ll call you back, kay?”. He put his phone back in his pocket and looked over at a guy Virgil didn’t recognize with a surprising amount of tenderness, gliding over to him. The guy had a brown sweater, and he waved a stuffed Stitch doll in the air with glee.

“Remy, I won this for us from the claw machine thingy!”

“Nice job, babe!”.

Across the arcade, Logan grinned in the way that one indicates murderous rage and made a beeline for the claw machine.

__________

Meanwhile, Patton wasn’t able to stop him from doing that. He’d left Logan to his own devices for a few minutes, feeling reluctant to cut the conversation short, because he’d spotted Roman buying a blue raspberry slushie, and had to ask him why he was at the rink to begin with. He tapped his friend on the shoulder, and he turned around.

“Pat! You made it!”

“I sure did, what’s the special occasion?”. Roman bounced with excitement, hands freezing from buying a blue raspberry slushie in January.

“I’m finally asking out Janus!”.

“That’s awesome, good for you-”. Then, the implications hit Patton.  _ I told Logan to ask out Roman on the same day he plans to ask out Janus. He’s going to get his heart broken, and it’s going to be my fault.  _ Roman looked confused as to why Patton’s face had fallen into shock and guilt.

“Isn’t this good news?”. Patton quickly nodded, eyes darting around the rink.

“I’m happy for you, and this is great news, but I have to go find someone now. I’m really, really sorry.”. And with that, he skated off, feeling full to the brim with guilt.

Logan was, of course, not where he’d left him.

________

Meanwhile, Janus had resorted to card games. He pulled out his deck with as much shadowy drama as he could muster.

“One game, Elliott. If I win, you let me into the rink, and if I lose, you get my firstborn.”

“I don’t want your firstborn!”

“You can get this cool rock I found and the smugness of victory.”. He spread out the cards, raising his eyebrows in a “take it or leave it” manner. Elliott considered it.

“How cool is the rock?”

“It’s shaped like a salamander if you tilt it at a certain angle. It’s splendid.”

“You know what? Fine.”

__________

Meanwhile, Dot was on the hunt. She’d owned Wheelies Roller Rink for ten years, and had kept the lights on that whole time. And the one thing she never forgot was who stole the prizes. 

It wasn’t easy owning a place like hers, especially on her own, and funding was always on her mind. Hell, she’d even had to house The Carl just to keep those arcade machines powered at all hours. 

Patton had apparently not cared about that one bit when he snatched up their highest value prize and scampered merrily into the night. 

Had she fed him to The Carl? No! The boy had merely been told not to enter her establishment. A simple request. And yet, here he was.

Well, he wouldn’t be there for long.

__________

Meanwhile, Logan swore at the claw machine, that cruel object of his frustration, before seeing Roman. He went through his speech in his head one more time, before skating towards him.

__________

Meanwhile, Roman took a deep breath and drifted over towards Janus, his heart fluttering (or possibly stopping). He assumed the confidence that he wished he had.  _ Fireworks. _

__________

Dot followed after Patton, determined to chase him out of the rink.

Patton saw Logan, and raced to him, determined to spare him heartache.

Logan grew closer to Roman, determined to get it right this time around. No more letting fear get in the way of opportunities.

Roman’s heart had definitely skipped several beats, kindly deciding to not take up space and distract from this moment. It would be fairytale, it would be rom-com, it would be picture perfect.

Janus was losing at cards.

Badly.

__________

The best way to describe the series of events is through Elliott’s eyes. They were looking forward to their dual rewards of a cool rock and not having Janus talk to them when a clearly lovestruck guy in a red shirt appeared. 

Lover boy managed to say only, “Hey! Would you-”, before the collision came. 

Elliott’s boss (who had been trying to say, “What did I tell you about coming back to my rink?”) bumped into a sweet looking guy (who had been trying to say, “Logan, wait, please, wait,”), who bumped into a nerd (who had been trying to say, “Hello there, I can’t believe we bumped into each other, what a coincidence!”), who bumped into lover boy, who clearly hadn’t been on skates for long and fell like Icarus, slushie no longer in his hand.

No, the slushie was everywhere but lover boy’s hand, but mostly on Janus.

Dot, sweet guy, nerd guy, lover boy, and Janus were all knocked to the ground in the chaos. 

There was a silence, thicker than a blue raspberry slushie, but thinner than a batch of fried blueberries. Lover boy was blushing scarlet. 

Finally, Janus rose from the ground with as much dignity as he could under the circumstances. He shot a scornful look at the situation, and then said a phrase that confused Elliott to no end.

“I knew you were trying to assassinate me.”. Janus gathered up his cards, turned up his collar, and vanished into the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I have nearly 20,000 words in this fic, and I can't believe how many of you have come along for the ride! I hope the next few chapters will make it worth it for all of you


	17. Virgil Needs To Stop Standing Behind That Plant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things didn't go well last chapter. Can things get better in this one?

Virgil was still hidden behind the plant, picking apart the leaves. _So. How does it feel to be a setter-up of romance?_ _It feels_ ugh. _At least this will all be over soon._ The last week had been weird, and containing a way higher amount of Roman than he was used to. 

To be fair, helping out Sanders hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. Sure, Roman could be unreasonable and loud, but he could also be….charming, in his own oddball way.  _ Not that I’d ever tell him to his face.  _ They’d been able to text during the week, mostly about Disney and Pixar movies (Virgil had told him that there was probably cannibalism in WALL-E. Many a furious keysmash had followed). 

_ Fine. He’s not the worst person in the world. So what? It’s not like we’re going to talk after he and Janus are a couple.  _

Virgil was going to continue his leaf massacre when he heard a crash.  _ The hell?  _

He looked up, but couldn’t quite see what had happened. Most of the sound was drowned out by general arcade noises. He stood, brushing the tiny pieces of green plastic off his hoodie, and headed over towards where he thought the noise had been.

The crime scene was a mess of blue slushie. Roman and Janus were nowhere to be found. Virgil looked around for someone to tell him what happened, and spotted Remy and “Em”.

The two of them were watching by the sidelines in equal parts concern and entertainment, holding hands. Remy had the stuffed Stitch tucked under his arm, and looked content until he saw Virgil. It was hard to tell under the sunglasses, but Virgil could have sworn Remy looked a little afraid. He whispered something into his boyfriend’s ear, and they quickly left the area.

Virgil shrugged it off. He’d find someone else to tell him what was happening, like the guy resting in the middle of the slushie pool. 

He was wearing professional-looking glasses and a blue tie (?) and was just  _ lying there _ , arms folded in mild annoyance. He seemed extremely lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling. Virgil waved in front of his face to get his attention before questioning him.

“Were you here when this happened or did you just choose to be there?”

“I did not, in fact, choose to be here. I was merely knocked to the ground, and this day has been far too long for me to rise to my feet. And so, I remain.”

“Honestly, same. What happened?”

“A veritable Rube Goldberg machine of people crashing into each other. Roman was holding a slushie, I crashed into him, the slushie went flying.”

“Was there anyone else there?”

“The owner of the arcade, Patton, and some person who looked unnecessarily sinister.”  _ So, Janus was there too.  _

“What happened to them?”

“The sinister one headed off into the evening, Roman ran out of the rink via a different exit, Patton followed him (likely to provide some kind of comfort), the owner of the rink seemed happy that he was gone and left to take care of business, and, as you can see, I remain. And I shall remain for some time.”. Virgil nodded, not really sure what to say to that, and walked around the slushie pool to the doors.

The parking lot was covered in mist, as usual. It was hard to keep track of his surroundings given the impossible size of the parking lot and the blinding fog, but Virgil had spent enough time at the roller rink to know how to get away without getting lost. 

He took a handful of pebbles from his pocket and threw one every six feet or so, tracing a path through the place. The mist was cold, and when he wasn’t throwing a pebble he had his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. 

A couple of times, he saw outlines of what looked like people in the fog, quietly wandering the parking lot. Once he realized they were too tall to be Roman (or any other human he knew), he avoided eye contact and hurried past. 

Finally, he spotted one of the few cars in the parking lot. As he got closer, he could spot a red coat and the outline of an actual person through the gloom. Roman was slumped against the car, head buried in his hands. Virgil called out to him.

“Are you okay?”. He startled, then crossed his arms, trying and failing to not look upset.

“Here to take your money, Hot Topic?”. Virgil grew closer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“I lost the bet. Are you happy now? I’m never dating Janus, so go ahead and say  _ I told you so _ .”. Things clicked in Virgil’s head.  _ Oh. Okay, so Janus turned him down. _

_ This is good, right? It’s over now, and I don’t even have to deal with Roman dating my friend. I mean, at this point, I wouldn’t have minded him sticking around the ESS. But still. It’s over, done, finished, and I never need to talk to Roman Sanders again!  _

He knew he should be happier about the unhappy ending to this goddamned rom-com. But for some reason, as he considered turning around and walking back into the mist, the disheartened look on Roman’s face stopped his feet from moving.  _ Stupid feet. Why won’t you just let me get out while I still can?  _ Instead, he leaned against the car, next to Roman.

“Technically, if you never started dating, you didn’t lose the bet.”

“Well, isn’t that a lovely technicality,” and he waved his hands as if talking to an audience, “Isn’t that just great! I ruined my chance at love again, but I get to keep  _ ten dollars!  _ Truly my banner day.”

“Hey. You only dropped a slushie.”

“You know what happened? Does everyone?”

“No, I just found out from the guy who crashed into you.”

“Ah. Is he okay?”

“Physically? He’s fine.”. Roman nodded, still looking upset. Virgil fiddled with the pebbles in his pocket.

“Are  _ you _ okay?”

“I’m stupendous. Stupendous at screwing up.”

“Someone crashed into you-”

“It’s not just about the slushie, Virgil! Even if I’d gotten to say my bit interrupted, and told him how I felt, and asked him out, what was he supposed to say?  _ ‘ _

_ Sure, Roman! You were right! Love at first sight worked out for you there, and it’s all going to be okay, and we’ll never fight, and everything is going to live up to your expectations! _ ’. 

Scratch that. What about,  _ ‘You’ll live up to my expectations since everything looked so pretty on paper’ _ ? Because let’s face it: I won’t. I can’t.”. They stood in silence as Virgil processed what he’d heard, trying to think of what he could possibly say to that. Finally, he spoke up.

“Look. I don’t know anything about romance, and most of my interactions with you have been trying to get or avoid vengeance. But anyone must have some fucked-up expectations for you not to meet them. So, you’re not Wesley. You’re not a master sword fighter, or a captain of a ship, or kept alive on the power of “true love”. Honestly, that’s kind of good? We’re in high school, we have enough stuff to deal with already!

Sanders, you’re confident, passionate, and hopeful. If someone doesn’t like you, that’s fine, but if it has anything to do with “expectations” they’re idiots.”. A half-smile was on Roman’s face by the time he finished talking, which hopefully meant he’d said the right thing. Had he said the right thing? He’d probably said the wrong thing and should get lost in the fog _ as soon as possible _ .  _ Did I mean what I said? I think I did. _

_ What’s happening here? _

“You know, the weird thing is that Janus didn’t just outright reject me. He said, and I quote, ‘ _ I knew you were trying to assassinate me _ ’ instead. Is that like an inside joke in your Team Rocket?”

“Evil Secret Society, and no, I don’t think so.”

“Then what do you think that was about?”

“Janus is kind of vigilant sometimes.  _ Street smarts _ and all that. Trust me when I say he’s got reasons to be. Actually, there’s a chance-” Virgil cut himself off by snickering.

“What? What is there a chance for?”

“There’s a chance that he actually thought you were trying to murder him.”. Roman blinked in surprise, then started giggling twice as loud as Virgil. 

“ _Me?_ _Murder him? Moi?_ ”

“I know, right? You’re not exactly the ruthless type.”

“Why would I even-”

“I don’t know!”

“Neither do I!”. The two of them tried to hold back their laughter in the mist, eventually succeeding. Virgil realized something.

“Wait. This might mean that you weren’t really rejected.”

“Really? How?”

“If he thought you were trying to murder him the whole time, and you clearly weren’t, this might all be a huge misunderstanding. Once the whole “assassination” thing is finished, your chances are still the same as before. All we need is a new strategy.”. Roman nodded quickly, hope returning to his eyes.  _ His eyes aren’t the same without that.  _

They chatted for a little while, mostly about ideas and the twisted things that  _ definitely _ happened in every animated movie (Virgil still wasn’t giving up on the cannibalism thing in WALL-E). The sky was impossible to see through the fog, but Virgil eventually could tell it was getting late and went to leave. Roman put his hand on his left shoulder.

“Virgil? Thanks. For all of this.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not really.”

And on the way home, despite having many things to freak out about, as usual, Virgil’s thoughts were as hazy as the fog and swept towards his left shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short wait, these last two weeks have been Something!


	18. Remus Pesters The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus visits his favorite graveyard.

When Remus was having a bad day, he’d go to the cemetery and annoy the local ghosts.

He made his way through the forest trails on the trash heap bike he’d had for ages (trash heap is no exaggeration: the brakes and a handlebar fell off a year prior and the tires still smelled of dead squirrel), whistling a song about dysentery and trying to keep the traffic cone tied to the back of the bike from falling off. The sun was shining, something was probably rotting somewhere, and, as soon as he wasn’t alone with his thoughts, things would be better. At least, that was the hope.

The ghosts lived a relatively unbothered afterlife. Unless they had a specific person or thing to haunt, the graveyard was the only place to be. They made it homey, sprucing the place up with cursed objects and fresh gossip. Gossip was quite easy to acquire when next to no one can see you. It was the only form of currency that the souls had left, and was hoarded like antique stamps.

Whenever most living people came into the graveyard, they’d be instantly surrounded by prying eyes and sly smiles (though all they’d sense were cold winds and unearthly howls). The ghosts would nod to each other as though to say  _ No wedding ring, I knew Robbie would get cold feet _ or  _ Who broke their nose? I bet they had it coming _ or  _ Is that a University of Portland sweatshirt? That’s my niece, growing up so fast. _ Then, all the spirits would return to their tombs, feeling the information they’d gathered almost as hot as their blood had once been.

But when they saw that damn Remus, they wished they could run, or better yet, punch again.

Remus practically skipped through the tombstones, popping sour cream and onion flavored crickets into his mouth. He waved to the spirits of the dead that had gathered.

“Hello, friends, how’s the decomposing?”. About a dozen spectral middle fingers were raised in his direction. He was used to that and pretended to accept it like the sweetest compliment. 

“For me? You’re all too kind. Anyway, I’ve had the best week.”. Ms. Hart raised her see-through eyebrows at this. He would only visit when something was wrong and/or he couldn’t talk to his rascal friends, so she wasn’t sure how truthful the “best week” part was. Remus flopped onto the ground with a sigh, staining his jeans with grass and mud.

“So, remember when I told you about Ro’s sappy love letters? I may have sent them all. Just released ‘em like feral cats into the school auditorium.”. The ghosts waved their hands furiously, as though to say,  _ Remus, why on earth did you do that? You suck! _

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. They were right there! What was I supposed to do,  _ not _ see what would happen?”. Ms. Hart mouthed  _ Yes _ as clearly as she could. Remus made a face at her.

“You wouldn’t be thinking that if you knew the juicy madness that will come out of this. Or that I thought was going to come out of this. Honestly, not much has happened, besides me feeling rotten and Janus looking at my dork brother and thinking,  _ “You know what? That right there, that’s boyfriend material.”.  _ Not that I know what Janus’s standards are, but even if the bar’s on the ground, I’m practically six feet under in terms of “Boyfriend material”. Doesn’t matter though. Why would it matter? We’re talking about Roman here, him and his extra special crush adventure.”. Remus pulled blades of grass out of the muddy ground, one by one, staring up at the cloudy sky. His thoughts still hadn’t left his brain yet, so he kept talking to his captive audience.

“Look, you don’t have to scowl, or glare, or try to tell me I fucked up. I know, okay? I know that I shouldn’t have sent those letters. I should have just put seventeen dead rats under Roman’s bed, painting a number on each one, but putting “18” instead of “17” on the last one. Then, I’d watch him search frantically for the missing rat, and cackle at his misfortune…”. He trailed off, cackling already. The evil laughter continued for longer than most evil laughter had a right to be. The ghosts glanced around awkwardly, waiting for him to stop. After a solid three minutes, he cut himself off abruptly. 

“People need to start having dramatic reactions again. Like, if Roman is going to be mad, I wish he’d challenge me to a duel instead of just ignoring me. Dude, you ignore me every day, change the routine a little. We’re supposed to be twins here. What was the point of fighting to keep us together if you don’t even want me around? 

Eh, maybe once I get you to realize the best person in the whole damn town likes you back you’ll start chatting.”. He rested his feet on Ms. Hart’s tombstone, making her count to ten and remind herself that she wasn’t going to set a cursed object on a boy young enough to be her Patton.

“And then they’ll talk, and they’ll fall in love, because after four years of trying I can safely say that, without replacing my brain and heart with roadkill, there’s no way to not fall for Jan, and then-and then I don’t know. Bagels, elopement, picket fences, I don’t give a  _ fuck _ .”. With that, he threw some mud in the direction of the woods. It hit a tree with a splat. Remus sat up, leaned against the tombstone, and stared desperately at the assorted ghosts.

“You all have more life-slash-death experience. So, any advice?”. The spirits were, as always, silent, and quiet enough to hear him whisper under his breath, “I wish everyone was right, and I didn't care.”.

After a silence, he shook himself off and assumed his normal demented grin and bounce.

“For those of you who haven’t heard modern music in a while, I have a  _ treat _ for all of you. Are you aware of the masterpiece that is Two Trucks Having Sex?”. With that, he pulled out his phone and played the song in question. 

The ghosts wailed in disgust and flipped him off once more.

Remus smiled, nearly holding his thoughts at arm's length. Sadly, they were his thoughts, and he was very good at intruding where he wasn't wanted. 

_My partner in crime loves Roman now, and it's all my fault._


	19. New Oppurtunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another week rolls around.

Roman had made a mistake by going to the roller rink. Not because he’d accidentally attempted to assassinate his crush, he’d fix that soon enough. His mistake was taking a significant amount of time out of his weekend and spending it on everything but the several homework assignments that had been assigned. 

The school bus was a frequent mobile study hall, and the English homework was easy enough. The Science assignment, however, was born of purest spite. He scribbled away on the worksheet, abandoning carefully written cursive for a diagonal nightmare, and trying to keep his mind from wandering.

Remus had gotten on the bus with him for once. His backpack kept making suspicious hissing noises, almost like there was a half-feral cat in it, waiting to be released in another moment of Grand Chaos that would get him suspended once again.

Actually.

That was exactly what that was.

Roman didn’t know anything about it. He refused to ask Remus why his bag was hissing because he’d resolved to never speak to his twin again (or at least not for another week or so). After all, even though he’d been sidetracked by the incredible possibilities of true love, he still was going to get his revenge one day.

Patton had gotten on the bus looking stunned and relieved, still wearing the same clothes he had on Saturday. He sat down near Roman and shivered. Roman tapped him on the shoulder, concerned.

“Are you alright?”. Patton startled, then realized that there were actual humans around him.

“Everything’s great, I just got a little lost in the mist outside the rink looking for you. You looked upset, and I thought I could help, and I forgot to bring pebbles. Is it Tuesday?”

“It’s Monday.”

“Nice! Only lost two days!”. Patton’s nose wrinkled, and he sneezed.

“Is there a cat on this bus?”. Remus opened his eyes wide and tried to act natural, slowly placing his backpack under his seat. Roman was going to continue his attack on his chemistry homework, but Patton kept staring at him with his patented (or should it be  _ patton-ted _ ?) Concerned Face™.

“What is it, Pat?”

“I mean, the last time I saw you, you had just run out into the mist looking kinda heartbroken.”

“Right, that. I’m fine, Virgil showed up.”

“Doesn’t that usually end in disaster?”

“Yeah, but this time it didn’t! He was...he was actually kind of nice. It was weird, but he helped.”

“Nice! Does this mean the feud is over?”. Roman considered. It was no small thing to end a nine-year feud, but after Saturday he didn’t think he’d be able to consider Virgil his enemy anymore.

“I think it is!”. Patton high-fived him, then grinned at something over his shoulder.

“Well, speak of the devil.”. Virgil had gotten on the bus. He looked around for seats, and Roman waved him over to the back of the bus. His face lifted into something that was probably a hesitant smile and hopefully not a threatening way of showing teeth. Virgil sat next to Remus, but across the aisle from Roman.

Yes, that was almost definitely a smile.

When Janus got on the bus, almost no one could tell. He was stealthy about it, sure to not be seen by anyone, especially his would-be assassin.

The day proceeded as normal. There were no food fights, no surprise assemblies, and no escaping hall monitors. Roman’s chemistry homework may not have been correct, but it was turned in, so there was that.

The action resumed when the Principal began ringing her cowbell in the halls.

It was the end of the day, and everyone was looking forward to being released when they heard the clang of the bell. The cowbell was used in theory to get students to stop talking and listen. In practice, the cowbell was useless. Still, the Principal had a talent for making her voice heard above even the loudest din without raising her voice at all. She spoke evenly, but with a tinge of fear.

“Let me remind all of you of the School Dance. We have tried to slow it down, but it is still hell-bent on arriving in about a week. It has clawed through our nets. It has clawed through Hall Monitor Nancy, who will be missed. Prepare yourself, children. Prepare your permission slips, and your outfits, and your sharpened sticks, and your dates, if you are interested in that sort of thing. Best of luck to you, and best of luck to us all.”. 

With that, the cowbell ringing ceased. Students began going about their business, some excitedly chatting about their outfits and just how sharp the sticks they’d bring would be. Roman was going to do the same thing when a golden idea popped into his mind. His face brightened in excitement. He looked around, spotted Virgil, and ran to him.

Virgil had the same look of epiphany on his face, and when the two reached each other they said the idea at the same time.

“ _ The school dance! _ ”

“It’s perfect!”

“Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

“I’ll ask him out at the school dance!”

“I think this might not totally fail!”

“It’ll be so romantic-”

“And a crowd is an easy place to hide-”

“We might even _ dance- _ ”

“I’m not usually a big “school dance” person, but-”

“It’ll be magical-”

“This idea doesn’t seem like a mistake.”

“It’s going to be the best night ever!”. Roman could barely keep from bouncing through the halls, and Virgil said that he didn’t hate the idea, which was practically the same thing for him.  _ I have a new plan. I have a second chance. Me and Janus are going to dance together, and then everything will line up perfectly! _

He couldn’t wait until the dance.


	20. Seven Days Before The School Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the countdown starts now

Seven days before the school dance, Remus got a phone call.

He’d quickly picked up once he realized it was Janus (though not without some unpleasant yearning that he’d like to replace with a blowtorch. Could he do that? It would be worth looking into, and he never passed up an opportunity to light things on fire).

“Remus?”

“Howdy, Jan, I’m just burning my house down!”. Normally, Jan would have some retort about pretending it was an accident to get the insurance money, but he breezed past the inside joke, talking as quickly as he could. The quality of his friend’s side of the call was terrible, but it sounded like there was a bus in the background.

“It has become clear that I can no longer stay in our town without being murdered, so I'm running away. I figured I should tell you since someone needs to make me into an urban legend parents use to scare their children. And, well, since I’m running away I might as well say that I-”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait. Why are you getting murdered this time?”

“Your brother  _ clearly _ wants me dead, and I’m in no mood to oblige him.”. Remus dropped his face into his hands, biting his tongue to keep from shrieking.  _ Sure, why not! Let’s have more of this!  _ He took a deep breath.

“Janus.  _ No _ .”

“Janus yes! I swear when I saw him at the roller rink his eyes were filled with murderous glee!”

“As an expert (some would even say professional expert) on murderous glee, I doubt Roman is capable of it. Let me guess. Did he tilt his head to the side and smile while staring into your eyes?”

“ _ How did you know? _ ”

“Someday, I’ll show you the difference between Romance Eyes and Murder Eyes. I’m like 99% sure that those were the first one.”. There was a pause on the other side of the call.

“Are you sure that your brother has any sort of romantic feelings toward me? We’ve spoken maybe once, and it’s not like I have frequent suitors.”.  _ Because this town can’t see what’s right in front of them. If they were any more oblivious, they’d all be about to run away from home because their perfect guy turned up. _

_ They’re really going to make a perfect couple. Similar interests, a similar flair for the dramatic, even love at first mcfuckingsight. Who even finds that? _ Remus paused, considering lying. He could tell Janus that he’d gotten it mixed up, and Roman didn’t feel that way after all. 

But then what would come after that? There wasn’t an option where Jan ended up with him, and no way to cheat or burn his way to his arms.

Also, there was still a chance that Janus could get on a bus and  _ run away _ , so Remus should probably stop that from happening.

“I read that letter. It was fluffy and cutesy and a horrible thing to put in front of my eyes, but it was genuine. He wants to date you, not kill you.”. Janus breathed a sigh of relief (or maybe a very loud gust of wind was racing through the bus station, it was hard to tell.)

“Okay! Great. I mean, I’ve already paid for the bus fare, so I’m still going to get on the bus and get my money’s worth, but it’ll be a round trip. Tell my aunt I haven’t been kidnapped, please.”

“Is it okay if I tell her you got a  _ little _ kidnapped?”

“No!”

“Sorry, you’re breaking up, can’t hear you!”. And with that, Remus hung up. He slumped, feeling as feral as the cat he’d snuck into school.  _ I’m going to need to light at least five potatoes on fire with my blowtorch. Maybe six. _

Seven days before the school dance, Logan went to debate club as usual, but couldn’t focus on constructing an argument. The only things he could think of were what his next plan of attack would be ( _ note to self: Do not crash into him this time _ ), and Patton. 

He’d seen Patton run after Roman into the mist after the Unfortunate Incident At Wheelies and hadn’t heard from him since. Logically, he was probably fine. Getting stuck in the mist for longer than a year was a 1/1,967 chance. It was infinitesimal.

So why was it that when he saw Patton walking out the door, hat flopping in the wind, he felt something close to relief?

Well, of course he was relieved. Logan wouldn’t wish getting lost forever in the mist to anyone, especially not someone who had been kind to him. 

Then again, he’d felt relief many times before, and this time felt slightly different.

Seven days before the school dance, Virgil was annoyed at himself.  _ What was that speech? Did I really complement Roman and  _ mean it _? _

Getting excited over a school dance (the bane of his existence), complementing Roman in a parking lot (Roman was supposed to be the other bane of his existence), socializing with someone who wasn’t necessarily down to commit crimes (the other other bane of his existence), discussing  _ romance _ (the other other other bane of his existence)-

That was it. He was jumping ship from this thing.

He’d helped Roman more than enough. He would do fine at the school dance, ask out Janus, date Janus, and that would be the end of it. Virgil had been an okay side character, but now was the time to do what side characters do best: leave the main plot with their untapped potential and quips to give the love interests screen time.

All he had to do was text Roman his goodbyes.

**Virgil:** ~~ So, I guess this is goodbye ~~ ( _ Definitely not _ )

~~ Hi! Don’t contact me again! ~~ ( _ What the fuck, no _ )

~~ Hey, Roman. I think you’re going to do good with the whole “asking Janus out” thing, and that’s why I was here, so I’m going to skedaddle ~~ ( _ That almost was okay until the word  _ skedaddle _ got involved _ )

~~ I think I’m going to go now. It has nothing to do with you, I’m just kind of done with this. Seriously, it’s not because of you. You’ve been nice and we’ve talked about movies and honestly I should probably just stay but ~~ ( _ Am I leaving or not??) _

~~ I’m glad we’re no longer enemies, but I really don’t want to be your friend. I mean, I do want to be your friend, but I don’t WANT to want to be your friend, since I have enough friends to worry about and keep from realizing that I’m not exactly reliable and ~~ ( _ No! No! No! I should just tell him my social security number while I’m at it _ )

~~ Good luck with your life, shame I won’t be in it  ~~ ( _ Now I’m just not trying _ )

~~ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA goodbye ~~ ( _ Screw this _ )

As Virgil edited and backspaced text after possible text, a notification popped up.

**Roman** : Okay, I know you said you’d never see West Side Story, but I think I’ve had a breakthrough in Operation Get You Into Musical Theater

You seem to be a fan of death and other macabre themes, and you kept bringing up the ALLEGED cannibalism in Wall-E (go and ruin my childhood, why don’t you)

Have you ever heard of a musical called Sweeney Todd??

Virgil hesitated. It would take him a little while, but he could find a way to tell Roman to leave him alone. His number one talent was driving people as far away from him as possible. 

But he didn’t want to drive Roman away.

**Virgil:** Wasn’t there a murdery barber in that or something?

_ Fine _ . He could find a way to deal with not hating-no, let’s be honest,  _ liking _ Roman Sanders. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your total dork of a former arch-nemesis closest.

Yeah. He was going to be okay with this.


	21. Six Days Before The School Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time ticks on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait for this one, it's the holiday season and things have been a bit hectic

Six days before the school dance, Roman doodled Virgil’s name in his notebook. Odd. Virgil didn’t have that much to do with his ideas for possible D&D campaigns. 

Then again, if he got Virgil sold on the idea of D&D, he’d be one step closer to really playing a game. After all, his number of friends had doubled over the past week. If he managed to collect two more people, he’d have enough for a full campaign! Then maybe he’d have a use for his notebook hoard filled to the brim with artifacts and plot threads.

So, if he actually needed his notebooks now, he ought to stop drawing Virgil’s name on the pages.

Six days before the school dance, Janus was hoping he’d taken the correct bus this time around. As he’d learned over the years, the tricky part wasn’t running away from home: It was getting back.

He would call himself a professional runaway, but sadly no one paid him for this.

He knew the subtleties of how to get onto the right bus, with the right things in his backpack, and the right things to tell to anyone he knew who wanted to know where he was going. Leaving town was as routine as piano practice.

Janus knew that wasn’t a normal thing, but at seventeen his life was already far from anyone’s definition of normal. Anyway, his aunt had gotten used to his disappearances and stopped worrying after the first dozen or so.

The return was always hard. Not because he didn’t want to go home, he always did after a couple of days at most. The forest just wasn’t a fan of him, and he wasn’t a fan of the forest, and the forest was significantly better at making things look like an accident.

The buses would break down mysteriously. His phone would lose power after only twenty minutes. His seatmate would stare at him, face stretched into a question mark, and ask to rifle through his backpack. Janus had learned to simply read a book and flip off the shadows.

But  _ roots _ growing in the bus engine was just a step too far.

The roots were a sickly green, tangling and twisting around the bus. They seemed very casual, like they’d been there for ages (although they clearly hadn’t been there a few minutes ago, since the bus had been  _ driving _ ). The bus had quickly pulled over by the side of the road, and the driver was perplexed by the sight of the things. All of the other passengers were already on edge from being in Oregon past darkness.

Janus eventually realized that they’d be stuck out there all night if he didn’t pitch in to help. He strolled up to the front of the bus, pulled a silver pocket knife out of his backpack, and hacked at the roots until they stopped strangling the engine. When everyone else looked at him in alarm, he covered his face with his hat and explained.

“I’m from Anymore.”

This only served to scare the passengers more. When the bus was up and running again, the bus driver sped to his stop in an effort to get him off as soon as possible. Janus walked home, smirking at the forest in triumph and tapping the town sign once for luck.

**You’re now in Anymore, Oregon**

**Population: 17,000 (2,000 alive (170 alive and human))**

**Isn’t It Lovely?**

Six days before the school dance, Patton was trying to save a cat.

The cat seemed perfectly fine. It had a bowl of water, food, and a realistic-looking mouse toy-ah, no, that was just a dead mouse. But when Patton had heard meowing in the school library and had investigated, he’d found a note beside the cat. It looked like Roman’s handwriting was on the note, but there was the tell-tale smear of ketchup that gave away Remus’s handiwork.

_ If you found this cat _

  * _No, you didn’t_


  * His name is Deimos, Eater of Hearts (but you can call them Moldy Dan)


  * He is being well taken care of. If you think I can’t break into the school to keep this cat fed, watered, and emotionally supported, you are underestimating me and/or haven’t looked at the newly added cracks in the windows.


  * He must stay. I have something **fun** planned for the school dance, and it needs Moldy Dan.


  * Don’t test me, weatherboy/weathergirl/meteorologist who doesn’t wish to use either term. I will fill you to the brim with regret and vinegar, uwu



While Moldy Dan did look comfortable where he was, Patton trusted Remus as far as he could throw him (which wasn’t far: Remus was too greasy to pick up, let alone throw). So, it was catnapping time!

Patton wasn’t what most people would call stealthy, but people were never suspicious of him. He was no Janus, he rarely gave people reason to raise eyebrows!

It was easy to get the cat under his jacket and out of the library, and, like always, no one gave him a second glance in the halls. Unfortunately for him, his allergies caught up to him before he got to the door. He was sneezing up a storm, and his throat itched like crazy. He hurried out of the school, eyes watering.

Where on earth was he supposed to put a cat? As sweet as Moldy Dan looked, Patton couldn’t keep an animal he was allergic to.

He sat on a bench near the entrance and slumped.

“What am I going to do with you, little guy?”. Moldy Dan had no advice to offer, but he helpfully coughed up a hairball. Suddenly, a welcome voice appeared.

“You told me four days ago that you were allergic to cats. Am I misremembering?”. He turned his head to see Logan, quizzical as always. Patton felt a little like when the sun comes out from behind a cloud. 

“Nope, I’m-”, and he sneezed once more, “ _ definitely _ allergic.”

“Then (and I’m assuming this isn’t an extremely well-groomed raccoon) why is there a cat in your jacket?”

“I found them alone in the library! I couldn’t just leave Moldy Dan behind.”

“ _ Moldy Dan? _ ”

“Remus named him. I’m pretty sure the cat is Remus’s, but he wants to use it in some scheme at the school dance. I don’t really trust Remus with this cutie, and I don’t know what I’d do if they got hurt.”

“I see. What are you planning on doing with Moldy?”. Patton sneezed in a glum way.

“I have no idea! Moldy Dan’s sweet, and barely bit me on the way out, but there’s nowhere for me to keep him! Maybe I’ll give him back to Remus after the school dance, but if I hand him over now who knows what will happen. And I can’t bring Moldy Dan back to my house, even though I would love to.”. 

Logan thought over the information for a while. Finally, he bent down slightly and held out his hand to Moldy Dan. The cat assessed Logan but seemed to approve, and he was able to pet behind their ears.

The long silence became a bit unnerving. Patton wondered how long he’d be there, staring into Moldy Dan’s eyes and standing very close. Finally, Logan looked up.

“I can take the cat.”. Patton’s heart skipped a beat.

“You mean it?”

“The school dance will be over in approximately a week, and I’m sure I can deal with Mr. Dan until then. At the moment, it seems like the only reasonable solution, unless you’d prefer sneezing.”. Patton nodded, trying to keep his face happy, but neutral.

“Thank you so much, that would be perfect!”. Logan took the cat out of Patton’s arms, and their hands brushed. 

And that was when Patton knew he was in a heap of trouble.

_ Nope. Nope. Nopity nope. I can’t have a crush on Roman’s future boyfriend! Even if he’s smart, and kind, and his hair falls over his glasses. _

_ Logan likes  _ Roman _. That’s the whole reason we met in the first place, because he likes Roman, and wants to date Roman, and Roman deserves a guy as great as him. I can’t-I’m not coming between that. I can’t justify coming between them. Things didn’t go great between Roman and Janus, so Roman needs Logan more than me right now. It would be selfish, it would be cruel, it would be- _

_ Please, please, please, let this be allergies and not love. _

_ I’m not the worst friend ever, I promise. _

_ If I don’t let him find out, I’m not the worst friend ever. _


	22. Five Days Before The School Dance

Five days before the school dance, Logan was concerned for the mental stability of the cat.

Moldy Dan had a habit of screaming at random hours of the night into Logan’s ear. He’d checked if Moldy needed anything, like a refill of his water dish, but apparently he just liked to scream.  Mr. Dan screamed when in a good mood, in a bad mood, or even vaguely confused at the fact that he cast a shadow.

He seemed to feel only a few emotions: Polite disdain, concern, extreme concern, Zoom, and bloodlust. All of the bloodlust.

Still, Logan had taken a liking to him, even though he tried to suffocate Logan in his sleep by sitting on his face. Having a cat around felt curiously familiar, though he was sure he’d never met Moldy Dan before.

Maybe he’d had a cat when he was younger, back in his old town, and it had simply slipped his mind. That must be it.

He wrote down the characteristics of the cat in his second-oldest notebook, the one with frayed pages and a galaxy cover. The likelihood of this actually being connected to his mystery was slim, but not impossible. Any chance had to be covered in quick, scientific notes.

The oldest notebook had been shredded years ago. That was before he’d learned to hide important information from his parents.

Anyway.

He’d realized after the first night that Moldy Dan needed to find a new way to cope with the bloodlust. There were quite a few ways to start a morning, but coming face to face with not one, not two, but  _ seven _ dead animals at the foot of his bed was not a great one. If Logan wasn’t a scientific person, he’d assume it was meant as a threat. A gesture of  _ I can kill seven small rodents, and I can kill you too _ . However, being a scientific person, Logan realized it was more likely that the bloodlust came from simple boredom.

Relatable enough (not killing small rodents, the constant boredom).

In order to give Moldy something to do besides murder, Logan would create a labyrinth and puzzle system for the cat to solve. He wasn’t sure how intelligent they were, but he’d find out.

Logan showed Moldy some of the early labyrinth designs. 

Moldy Dan screamed.

Five days before the school dance, Roman met up with Patton for their usual Create Stuff and Chat session. They hadn’t been able to hang out as much in the past couple of weeks (due to surprise romantic antics), and this was as good a time as any to catch up.

Patton worked on a new scarf, knitting colorful strands of yarn together. He’d realized just how cold the parking lot mist could be after getting lost in it a few days ago and had decided to knit scarfs to leave back there. The poor souls who still couldn’t find their way out might like them.

Meanwhile, Roman sketched out a new comic. He’d been creating comics under one storyline about a fantasy realm since he was ten. There were swords, sorcery, and sorry excuses for heroes, and he still hadn’t decided whether to kill off the main character or give him a happy ending.

There was less chatting than usual that day. Patton seemed to have more nerves than a porcupine has spines, though he loudly denied everything when Roman asked if he was alright. Roman shrugged it off. His best friend sometimes went through moral dilemmas, and if he didn’t want to talk there was no way to convince him.

Patton had once had a moral crisis over accidentally squishing a beetle (and the beetle turned out to be a red M&M).

It seemed like their usual Create Stuff and Chat session was just going to be a Create Stuff session until the very end when Patton stopped stabbing yarn and spoke up.

“Do you know how to stop having a crush on a person?”. Roman tilted his head.

“Pat, that’s kind of the opposite of my life story.”

“Right, right. Um, what do you think about the morality of crushes? I mean, it’s clearly wrong to, say, have an affair with someone. But where do we draw the line? Is breaking up a future relationship as immoral as breaking up an existing one?”

“What?”

“Is it alright to have feelings for someone who’s in a relationship (or is about to be) as long as you show no indication of them and make no actions on those feelings? Or are the feelings themselves the issue? _ And does that mean that I’m ethically doomed no matter which path I take? _ ”. Patton stared at Roman, pleading for an answer. 

_ What am I supposed to say? What’s even happening? _

“Just….follow your heart?”

“My heart is very loud and confused! It’s like 25,000 frogs set loose into a little bog of dread!”

“Wow. 25,000 frogs?”

“ _ 25,000 frogs. _ ”

“That’s a lot of frogs. I don’t really know what to say here (I mean, I’m still not 100% sure what’s going on), but I guess don’t blame yourself for having feelings for someone? My best advice would be a last-minute confession in the rain. Never fails, except when it does!”. Patton nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. 

The subject was changed soon after.

Five days before the school dance, the Evil Secret Society partook in shenanigans.

The shenanigans are unable to be shared here, as the information was made classified by a government agency that can only be described as vague, yet menacing.

All that can be revealed is that they had fun, and the statues are probably not sentient anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's been reading my story!!  
> I'm going to be taking a one week break for the holiday, but I'll be back soon


	23. Four Days Before The School Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Janus search for Moldy Dan, Patton is still in a dilemma, and Roman and Virgil chat.

A school dance is a delicate yet vicious thing. 

Some school dances at Anymore High School have been marvelous, glowing nights that everyone attending will remember with nostalgia.  On the other hand, some school dances at Anymore High School have ended with bloodshed, horror, and the release of the Lizard Eternal that lives under the basketball court.

Of course, the majority of school dances are unmemorable and involve standing in a corner with a glass of juice (unspiked), waiting for a suitably meme-able song to come on so you can dance, but act like it’s ironic.

Still, the PTA gets annoyed when there are over five deaths at any school event (although they acknowledge that sometimes things happen in the yearbook committee) so safety measures must be taken. That’s where the Sharp Sticks ® come in.

Four days before the school dance, Janus was following an increasingly distraught Remus around the library.

“Remus, are you sure the cat isn’t just hiding somewhere?”

“Deimos, Eater of Hearts, would never just hide! Do you know how many dead rodents he’s brought me?”

“A worrying amount?”

“Yes! He’s the best partner in crime I’ve ever had.”. Janus mock gasped at hearing Remus say that.  _ I’ve been abandoned for a cat. _

“My heart is shattered.”

“Okay, fine,  _ second-best _ partner in crime.”. They searched behind another row of bookshelves, which gave Janus a chance to collect himself, stop grinning in an undignified way, and maybe come up with a teasing comment or two.

“I knew you cared about me.”

“The first is Virgil.”

“ _ No! _ ”. Remus snickered loud enough to annoy the school librarian from beyond the grave as Janus continued with the dramatics.

Despite having fun, Remus was still worried by the end of the day. Moldy Dan wasn’t in the library, the hallway, the gullet of the Lizard Eternal, or the science lab. The duo had to end their search in defeat, go back to their homes, and sharpen sticks to a fine point to ensure their survival at the school dance.

Janus hated it. Not the stick sharpening, that was fine. No, he hated Remus being worried.

So, he was going to break into the school building after hours and look for clues.

Janus picked five locks to get back into the library. Could he have technically gotten in through the window? Yes. But the night was cold, and testing out his new lockpicks was more of a dashing rogue move than clinging to a grimy drainpipe. Half of the things in his life were done for aesthetic and drama, and this wasn’t very different.

This was no longer a simple search mission. After hours of searching for the mangy thing, he suspected foul play at hand. Foul play was his business, and Janus was a little offended that someone else at this school was trying it.

Just when he was ready to give up, he found the note.

Everyone always said Remus had the same handwriting as Roman. This wasn’t remotely true. The differences were small, but glaring if you paid attention or bothered to read anything of Remus’s. Since about a thousand notes had been passed between him and Janus, it was pretty easy to tell Remus had written the note, even without the threatening “uwu”.

That wasn’t the important part. The important part was the addition at the end.

Someone had quickly scribbled an apology/justification for taking Moldy Dan on the paper, saying that he would be returned and that Remus wasn’t to be trusted with him for now.

Someone with a moral compass but a fair bit of self-righteousness about this, someone with experience in kidnapping cats, someone who would steal a thing and leave an actual apology note.

Janus quickly texted the Evil Secret Society group chat, sending a picture of the apology note.

**Janus:** THERE’S BEEN A MURDER!

There hasn’t been a murder, I just wanted to say that

**Remus:** Dang, and here I got my hopes up

**Janus:** But I KNOW WHO TOOK THE CAT

**Remus:** !!!!

Who do I have to kill????????

**Virgil:** guys what’s happening it’s 1:30 in the morning

**Janus:** Skullduggery is happening, Virgil.

**Virgil:** Great! It’s still 1:30

**Janus:** What do you want me to do? Control time?

In this economy?

**Remus:** My cat is still missing

**Janus:** Right! Patton took them.

I analyzed the note using fun tools like “common sense” and “my personal biases”

And I am convinced he stole the cat

So, what do you say?

Shall we do Crimes??

**Remus:** Hell yes

All the crimes

**Janus:** Partners in crime?

**Remus:** ~~ always ~~ LOOK AT THIS POSSUM

_ (Remus sent an attachment) _

**Janus:** 11.7/10, garbag é

Janus left the library through the window, as entering places through a window was for fools and desperate people, but leaving through the window has style, and is a good distraction from heartache.

Not that the last part was from personal experience.

Four days before the school dance, Patton was trying to stop thinking about Logan. He was just going to prepare the necessary things for a school dance: A nice jacket, a sharpened stick, a picture of his loved ones, and maybe some food to bring. 

He’d finished the scarf yesterday, and left it in the parking lot for whoever needed it. Hopefully, it could help someone who was lost, or cold, or lonely.

He could keep busy, and he could keep helping people. With enough effort, he could forget he felt anything non-platonic for Logan in the first place!

Logan texted him blueprints for a maze he was building for Moldy Dan with care and cleverness, making Patton flop on the floor and internally scream.

_ This is very unfair. _

Four days before the school dance, Roman and Virgil met up in the forest to talk strategy and whittle.

Virgil probably didn’t need to print out the blueprints of the school gym with every vent circled, but he was going to cover every single possibility. He didn’t have much “asking out guys” advice, but he had “how to run out of a building very fast” advice, and Roman was going to have more street smarts by the end of the day, mark his words.

“Okay. So there’s usually around three mysterious disappearances at these things-”

“There hasn’t been a mysterious disappearance at a dance since the Sharp Sticks ® were introduced. The bloody deaths are in the past, while me and Janus are right now!”. Roman bounced around, stars in his eyes. Virgil circled a vent that he’d missed.

“Actually, right now  _ I’m _ here trying to help you not break the current “no deaths” streak.”

“I know, I know. I’m just so excited that something is finally happening for once. I think about dancing with Someone at a Special Thing a lot, but now we’re going to be at the thing, and I can’t stop  _ freaking out. _ ”

“Right.  _ You _ are going to the dance. Not ‘we’.”

“What? Not a chance. You’ve helped me too much to not get a fun night out of this.”

“Ah, yes. Standing in the corner with a glass of juice (unspiked), waiting for a suitably meme-able song to come on, surrounded by a bunch of loud people I don’t like, and who don’t like me. The epitome of fun.”

“But it’s the school dance, the  _ grand finale _ . If someone doesn’t like you, I’ll duel them!”

“You do realize that you’d have to duel your past self from a month ago?”

“I could take past me in a fight. He had half the friends, and didn’t have the power of love on his side.”

“I’m constantly prepared to fight my past self in case it ever comes up. I know all the embarrassing stuff he’s done, but he has no idea what I’ve managed to screw up. But we’ve gotten  _ way _ off topic, where was the conversation two minutes ago?”

“Hmm. I’m pretty sure you were telling me to fear for my life.”. With that, Roman carved the final rune into his Sharp Stick ® . Virgil went over his list of things that had caused a mysterious death or disappearance in the past, but it spiraled on and on. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’ve just gotten too invested in this to see you lost to cyber-ducks.”

“Those aren’t a thing.”

“ _ They are _ .”

“Wow. I appreciate the concern, but I can definitely take care of myself. I wouldn’t carry  a sword around if I didn’t know how to use it.”

“I know, and that’s kind of awesome. But I can’t  _ not _ worry.”

“If you can’t help worrying, then maybe you could accompany me?”. Roman turned to Virgil, completely sincere.

“If you absolutely don’t want to go, that’s okay. But you’ve helped me so much, and we’ve spent time together on this, and I would really like to have you there.”. Virgil stabbed a stick, silently thinking it over. Finally, he nodded.

“Fine. It might not be a complete mistake to see this through.”

**The Principal of Anymore High School would like to remind you that you cannot sue us, show up with an angry mob with pitchforks at our doors, or otherwise make a ruckus about any deaths or other damages that take place at this sublimely inevitable school dance.**

**Seriously, you can’t.**

**If you google the names of people that have tried, all that will come up is a photo of a distressed fig tree, with the words “ Got ‘Em” captioning it in comic sans.**


End file.
